


Derailed

by LilyK



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 04:24:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15259395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: When Blair wakes in an extended care facility, he's told that he's been in a coma for the past four years and what he remembers about his life has been a dream. To make matters worse, when he asks Naomi about his partner, he's told that there is no one named "Jim Ellison" in his life.





	Derailed

  
"Blair, honey. It's Mom. Open your eyes, sweetie. I love you. Please, Blair, look at me. I've been waiting so long for you to look at me again. Please, Blair." 

Blair sighed deeply, and his eyes flicked back and forth under closed lids. He blinked once, then again. With another soft sigh, his eyes opened. A blurry shape hovered in his field of vision. Closing his eyes tightly, he grimaced. 

"Blair, sweetie. Can you hear me?" 

Recognizing the much loved voice, Blair swallowed before he licked his dry lips. "M... mom?" he croaked hoarsely. 

"Yes! It's Mom! Look at me, sweetie." 

Blair blinked again, forcing the shadows away. "Mom?" Slowly, his mother's figure took shape. One hand felt warm and was being held tightly. The other, when he tried to raise it, felt heavy and refused to cooperate. "What...?" he whispered. 

"Shhh," Naomi whispered, tears streaking her face. "I'm right here. I'm holding your hand. Can you feel me holding your hand?" 

Swallowing again, Blair nodded. "Hand... yeah." Pausing, he shivered. "I feel... funny. Why are... you crying?" 

"Oh, sweetie!" Naomi cried, burying her face in his shoulder while her hand petted his head. "I love you." 

"Love... you, Mom. Really tired..." With another small sigh, Blair let sleep claim him with his mother's comforting voice echoing in his head. 

"Sleep, son. I'll be right here when you wake." 

\-------------------------------------------------

"Four years?" Blair said incredulously. "I've been in a coma for four years? No way! Didn't happen. I don't feel... I can remember things! It's not possible." He crossed his arms against his chest and clenched his teeth, nervously glancing at the two burly attendants standing against the far wall with bored expressions on their faces. "You're lying. Why are you lying?" he spat at the doctor standing beside his bed. 

"Mr. Sandburg, we're not lying to you. Why would we? What do we have to gain? Look at your mother. She loves you. She'd do anything for you. Why would she lie?" 

Blair glanced sideways into the pleasant face of the doctor. "But I can remember! I remember the last thing I did!" Turning to his mother, he said adamantly, "Mom, you were there! In the bullpen! Simon was in his wheelchair. Megan's arm was in a sling. Jim was using a cane because of the bullet to his knee from Zeller. Simon tossed me the detective's shield. They asked me to become official." Blair's throat closed and he stifled a sob. "Why don't you remember? Where's Jim? Why isn't he here? I want to talk to him!" 

Naomi cast a worried glance at the doctor. When he nodded, Naomi cleared her throat. "Blair, sweetie, Dr, Tolstoy and I only want what's best for you." With a sad look, she continued, "But there isn't anybody named Jim that I know about. I seem to remember you had a friend named Jimmy when you were in the fifth grade." 

"No," Blair demanded. "No way. Jim, Jim Ellison, my partner. He's been a cop for almost ten years and I've been his partner for the last three!" 

"Blair, it was all a dream! You were dreaming while you were in the coma. You've always been such an imaginative person!" Naomi sat down on the side of the bed. "Listen to me. You were at school when you were hurt. It was just an accident. You fell down a flight of steps that were slippery from rain water. You hurt your head and you've suffered a brain injury." She smiled softly and spoke quietly. "These memories aren't real. They were just -- stories that you had in your mind while you were sleeping. Maybe they helped you to get well, kept your mind active, but there is no Jim." When Blair's face turned away, she touched his arm. "Look at me, sweetie." When his eyes finally searched out hers, she smiled. "You would never be a partner to a pig - a cop. I raised you and I know you'd never abandon your principles to follow some gun-toting jack-booted thug around! It isn't in you, sweetie." 

Blair glared. "I don't believe you. I couldn't have dreamed up everything! Mom, you remember. You sent my dissertation to Sid Graham and he leaked it to the press. Jim was very upset-" 

Naomi sighed and put a comforting hand on his arm. "Blair, you didn't get to finish your dissertation. I didn't send it to anybody. You were hurt while you were studying for your PhD in marine biology." 

"Marine biology?" he echoed.

"Yes, sweetie. You've been interested in the ecology of the ocean and saving the planet from environmental ravages since you were a little boy." 

Blair's eyes grew wide. "But my field is anthropology! I'm studying..." He fidgeted, still uncomfortable revealing Jim's special abilities, "...closed police societies. Why don't you remember?" Defiant eyes bored into Naomi's and he dared her with a look to deny the truth. When she remained silent, he struggled to rise from the bed. "I want a telephone. I'm calling Jim or Simon or Megan. They'll tell you what happened." 

Naomi started to cry. "Blair, please, this is so hard... Honey, would it help if I brought things from your life? Photographs? Your yearbooks? I have lots of pic-"

"No!" Blair shouted. "You're a fucking liar and I'm out of here!" He forced his heavy legs toward the side of the bed. "Damn it anyway!" 

"Mr. Sandburg, please listen to me," said Dr. Tolstoy. "Although we've performed physical therapy three times a week while you were in the coma, your body needs time to adjust. You need to learn to walk again. Since your personality seems to be somewhat -- forceful, I doubt it will take long, but you must be patient." 

"Get away from me!" Blair shouted to the doctor. "Leave me alone!" he yelled at Naomi, who had again tried to rub his arm. "Don't touch me! I want Jim! I insist you call him immediately! Call Captain Simon Banks at police headquarters! He'll back up my story!" 

Dr. Tolstoy gave a patient smile. "Mr. Sandburg... Blair, if you don't calm down, I'm afraid I'll have to administer a sedative. This would be so much easier on you if you would just cooperate. All we ask is that you follow our simple rules." 

"Fuck you!" Blair cried, flailing out. His arm sent the water pitcher on the bedside table crashing to the floor. 

"Please, sweetie. Listen to the doctor. We only want what's best for you." Naomi wrung her hands. "I want you to be well." 

"And I want the truth! I want to talk to Jim!" Blair shouted. "No..." He clumsily scooted to the far side of the bed when Dr. Tolstoy approached, hypodermic in hand. "Do not touch me! You have no right to do this!" At the doctor's nod, two waiting attendants grabbed Blair's arms and legs. "Noooo!" 

"Don't hurt him!" Naomi cried. "He's been through so much!" 

Dr. Tolstoy gave Naomi a sympathetic smile. "We won't hurt your boy, Ms. Sandburg. This will just calm him down and help him sleep." 

Even though his physical condition was still poor, Blair fought the hands with all his strength. "No, no, no. I want Jim!" Tears formed in the corners of his eyes when the sharp needle slid into the skin on his upper arm. "Nooooo," he wailed. "Jimmmm..." When the medication started its work, the hands released their hold and he slid down onto the bed, lethargic and dazed. Determined to fight the drug, he silently screamed in protest. His body betrayed him and all too soon, his arms and legs felt heavy and useless, and his mind started to cloud over. "Want Jim," he slurred before his eyes slipped shut. "Please..." His mouth fell open and drool dribbled from the corner onto the sheets. 

\-----------------------------------------------

"So, Mr. Sandburg, how are we feeling today?" 

Blair blinked lazily and picked at a loose thread on his shirt. "We are feeling pretty darned good, Dr. Morganstern." He gave a sloppy smile and waved his right hand haphazardly. "They keep me on the good stuff, you know." 

Dr. Morganstern smiled. "Do you want to continue on "the good stuff" as you put it, or do you want to work toward being weaned from the strong meds and have to rely on the minimal amount your body requires to control your symptoms?" 

Blair shrugged, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. As always, he was startled that his hair was cut short. He still expected to run his fingers through shoulder-length locks. With another shrug, he said, "Whatever. I'm easy." 

"Why don't we go over the physical consequences of long-term coma? It seems to help you when we revisit certain aspects of your condition. I do believe it helps to -- calm you." 

"Yeah, sure. You want me to start or do you want to give it a go?" 

"You -- give it a go, okay? That way we'll understand that you understand what happened to you rather than me just telling you." 

"Cool." Blair smiled. "Let's see, long-term consequences of being coma'd up for four years. All sorts of fun things like seizures, muscle spasticity, fatigue, headaches, and balance problems, to name a few." He gave Dr. Morganstern a beaming smile. 

"Very good! Let's move onto emotional consequences, shall we?" 

Blair grinned. "Yes, let's," he said conversationally. "Emotional fun times ahead may include, but are not limited to, depression, mood swings, anxiety, impulsivity, and/or agitation." 

"You're quite correct, Blair. I must say, your progress in the last weeks has been astounding, to say the least. Not many people bounce back from a four-year coma with their faculties almost intact, such as you have. You're a very lucky man." 

"Thank you, Doctor. I consider myself very, very fortunate. Thanks, of course, to you and this fine facility, my mother and all the kind people here." 

With a smile, the doctor said, "I think that I might have good news for you." 

"Oh?" 

"I've discussed this with your primary psychiatrist, Dr. Tolstoy, and your mother, of course, and we feel that in the next four weeks, you might just be a good candidate for Greentree House! As you know, this facility is for people still struggling to attain the success that you already have. I believe you're ready for limited independent living." 

Blair sat up in his chair. "Really? That's -- wonderful! That means I'll be able to have my own apartment, and be able to go out and get a job, doesn't it?" 

"Yes, it does. Of course, you'll have to remain on your medications for the rest of your life, but I'm sure we can discuss all of that in more detail as time progresses. I think you're at a point now where you've accepted that your brain injury is permanent and if you expect to be a functioning, contributing person in society, you realize that the medication keeps your life on an even keel." Dr. Morganstern smiled warmly. "At Greentree House, you'll have your own small suite to keep clean and you will have gainful employment at one of our benefactors' businesses. You could even return to school, should you desire. How does that sound?" 

"Oh, geez, that sounds fucking... Excuse me, darned wonderful to me!" Blair said enthusiastically. "I understand about the meds and all of that. But I have to tell you, medication aside, I don't think I'd have come this far if not for your faith in me. Thank you." 

"You're welcome. Soda?" 

"Yes, please! Pepsi, no ice." 

"Right. You're a straight out-of-the-can drinker, just like me." Dr. Morganstern rose and fished a cold can of soda from the small refrigerator behind his desk. He handed it over with a smile. 

"Nice and cold. Thank you." Popping the top, he took a deep drink. Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, he beamed. "Great. Thanks!" 

"Shall we continue? We have about fifteen minutes left." 

"Yes, please. The harder we work, the faster I can get to Greentree. Not that I want to leave, but I'm sure there are others who need your help more than I do. I hate using up space if you have others in distress. After all, I wouldn't be where I am today if not for you, Doctor. Your gifts should be shared with everybody." 

"No wonder your mother is proud of you, Blair. You're a fine young man." 

Blushing, Blair sipped his drink and waited patiently for the doctor to ask his next question. 

"I'll bet you know the last question without my asking it." 

Blair smiled. "It's the one that I've had to work the hardest on since I awoke. The cognitive consequences are the most daunting, I believe, at least for me. Some of them are: memory loss, slowed ability to process information, trouble concentrating, organizational problems, poor judgment, and/or difficulty initiating activities." 

The timer on Dr. Morganstern's desk dinged softly. "Time's up for today, Chief. Same time tomorrow, okay?" 

Blair rose. "It's lunch time! I'm starved. See you tomorrow, Doctor!" With a happy wave, he exited the office and wandered toward the dining room under the watchful eyes of the close-circuit cameras mounted every five feet on both sides of the corridor. He ignored the blinking lights and camera lenses and kept his eyes focused straight ahead toward the next hallway. Ducking into the nearest men's room, he entered the second of the two stalls on the north wall. It was the only stall that didn't have full camera access, Blair knew. It had taken him two weeks of mental mathematical calculations regarding camera angles and area to discover this information. He sat down on the toilet and snorted. If they hadn't kept him so doped up, he could have figured out the calculations in two hours. Or less, he thought with a chuckle. 

Even this modicum of privacy allowed him to finally relax just a bit. He was fucking tired of being watched twenty-four/seven. He had to get out of here! And that asshole had the balls to call him "Chief". He almost barfed when the beloved name rolled from the thin, nasty lips. Blair shuddered. He hated them all. They were liars, even his mother. But why would she betray him? He thought she loved him, but now he knew better. Only Jim loved him. Jim, I'm coming. Hang in there, man. Jim... 

Pushing thoughts of his lover from his mind, he considered his options. Only a few more weeks and he'd be sent to Greentree House. He'd play along and then, when the first opportunity presented itself, he would run. He'd find Jim and Jim would protect him. 

Blair chewed on his lower lip. What if Jim had been taken also? Maybe that's why he hasn't come for you. He is a precious commodity, after all. Maybe after that fucking press conference, the Feds snatched us both. He could be locked up right now! He could be suffering worse than I am!

The more Blair thought about the idea that Jim had been taken by some dark governmental agency for nefarious purposes, the more he believed that it was the only explanation that made sense. No way Jim Ellison had abandoned him, he knew without a doubt. He had to be incarcerated somewhere just like he was. And he'd find Jim if it took everything he had left in him. Time, money, his own life; nothing else mattered, but finding his partner. 

He yanked a wad of paper from the roll and made the appropriate sounds for using the facilities while he sighed softly and rubbed his eyes. Patience, Blair. Just play along. Act dopey and friendly and grateful. Just for a while longer... 

\-----------------------------------------

"Here's your daily medication, Blair," one of the nurses said as she placed a paper cup into his hand. "And Dr. Morganstern is waiting for your morning session." 

"Thanks, Cindy." Blair tossed back the pill and swallowed half a glass of water. "I'd better get a move on. Ole Sternful doesn't like to be kept waiting." 

Cindy laughed. "You are such a bad boy. It's not nice to call Dr. Morganstern names..." She glanced around before she turned back to Blair and added conspiratorially, "...even if they're factual!" 

Blair smiled and followed Cindy from the room. He sauntered casually down to Dr. Morganstern's office, wiped his mouth, palmed the pill, and knocked. 

"Come!" 

"Hi!" he said cheerfully, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

"Blair, come in. Come in." When Blair sat down, Dr. Morganstern smiled. "I have great news!" 

"What?" Blair asked hopefully, sitting on the edge of his seat. "Is it...?"

With a nod, the doctor said, "Tomorrow! Is that soon enough?" 

"Oh, my God. Yes! That is so wonderful! I need to pack." Blair started to rise. 

"Let's talk for a bit before you rush off to pack, Chief." 

He smiled. "Sure. Be happy to. Give me the run down." 

"There's a nice big room for you at Greentree House. There's a small kitchenette, living space, bedroom and bath. You'll have your own television. Dr. Tolstoy and I agree that you're ready for this big step." 

"Finally!" Blair said with a laugh. "It's been really strange having only old black and white, and Disney movies to watch for the past few months. Not to mention reruns of Bonanza and Andy Griffith." 

"I know, but it's better for you to concentrate on your recovery rather than be bothered by daily news. Things are hard enough for you without having your recovery hampered by hearing about the cruelties of man. You understand why you aren't allowed access to outside information, don't you, Blair?"

"Yeah, sure. No big deal. I'll catch up when I'm on my own." 

"Now, now," Dr. Morganstern said, holding up a hand. "You're not entirely on your own yet. You have six months of supervised living before you'll be totally released from our care." 

"Got it. I know. My mom explained it all to me. She has my power of attorney, and I know she wants what's best for me." 

"Yes, she does." Dr. Morganstern rose. "Pepsi?"

"Yes, please." 

With a smile, Dr. Morganstern passed over a cold, sealed can, which Blair popped and with a happy sigh, he took a big swig. 

"I really look forward to your sharing the soda with me. I know that caffeine isn't allowed and that's it's a special privilege just for me." Blair leaned forward and whispered, "But don't worry. Your secret's safe with me." 

The doctor laughed. "May I say that of all the patients I've treated over the past twenty years, you have a special place in my book. I hope you don't mind if I add that I think of you as the son I never had. I'm so pleased you're going to be well." 

Blair blushed. "Thanks. Now you've embarrassed me." 

Dr. Morganstern smiled. "Go," he said with a wave of his hand. "Go and pack. I know you're excited. Tomorrow we'll say our goodbyes." 

Blair rose and started to leave. 

"Blair?" 

"Yes?" 

"Good luck, son." 

"Thank you." 

\--------------------------------------------

Blair hummed happily as he packed his duffel. The box holding the photo album and school year books that his mother had provided to help with his memory remained shoved in the back of the closet. The pictures of himself in various stages of his life, always dressed like a preppie, even as a young boy, in a suit coat, tie, pressed slacks, and polished loafers, made him want to scream aloud that this was the lie, these pictures, not his memories. The short hair and thick glasses were so wrong, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Photographs could be doctored. School pictures could be manipulated. Nothing would convince him that he was remembering dreams, and not his real life. Nothing. Jim would know. Jim would protect him. 

Blair turned to walk toward the small sink that occupied one corner when he suddenly felt dizzy. His eyes teared; his body spasmed, and he felt himself fall to the floor. His breath caught in his throat and his limbs stiffened. Then he lapsed into unconsciousness. 

\----------------------------------------

"... temporal lobe seizure. He could have another one at any time. We must postpone..." 

The words sank home. Blair shuddered and awoke abruptly. "Mom?" 

"Blair! Oh my God, honey! You really scared us!" 

"Sorry," Blair whispered. "What happened?" 

Dr. Tolstoy entered his field of vision. "You had a major seizure, Blair." 

"No," Blair said forlornly. "No, no, no." 

The doctor patted Blair's arm. "It will be all right." 

"No it won't!" Blair said bitterly. "I heard you. You're not going to let me go to Greentree House now." He turned his face away. "I'll never..." 

"You'll never what, sweetie?" Naomi asked quietly. 

"Nothing." Blair sighed. "Now what?" 

"We'll adjust your medications and tackle this problem. We'll get these seizures under control, and then in a little while, we'll reschedule your move to Greentree. You will get better," Dr. Tolstoy explained calmly. "I guarantee it." 

Blair clenched his teeth before he finally said, "Okay. Thanks." 

"Good man," the doctor said. "Now you rest." Turning, he said, "Nurse?" 

Blair watched as the nurse injected yet another drug into the IV line that snaked down the metal apparatus and into his arm. It had taken him months the first time before they had changed his meds from injections, something he couldn't control, to pills, something he learned to avoid. Unable to stop the lears that leaked from his eyes, he gave into the lethargy as the medication took hold. 

\-----------------------------------------

"How are you feeling today, Blair?" 

Blair shrugged. "Kind of tired." 

"It's the new meds. We'll make a small adjustment, okay?"

"Yeah, thanks. I hate those injections. Pills don't hurt as much." 

Dr. Morganstern smiled. "I understand that! And I appreciate your maturity considering this last setback. The past three weeks have been hard on all of us, but I think we've finally gotten close to a medication routine that will help you. You will get to move on with your life. You just need to be patient. I want you to be safe." 

Blair sighed tiredly. "I know. Thanks." 

"Pepsi?"

Blair's eyes narrowed minutely, but his face remained passive. There was no way he'd ever take anything to eat or drink from this man again. He knew why he'd had a seizure. This moron had drugged him. Problem was he had no control over his own life. Still, he could be cautious with his own body. As much as possible, anyway. 

"God, I'd love one but..." 

"What's wrong?" the doctor asked sympathetically. 

"My stomach's been upset for a couple of days so I'd better pass, darn it anyway. I'd love a cold soda, but throwing up isn't a favorite pastime of mine." 

Dr. Morganstern pursed his lips. "It's probably the new meds. We'll make a few necessary adjustments. Next time, okay?" 

"Yes. Thank you. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you to look out for me." He gave the doctor a dazzling smile. 

Chuckling, Dr. Morganstern said, "Go, have something to eat. You need to regain some strength. I hear there's homemade chicken and rice soup today. Oh, and some fresh fish of some sort. Enjoy your lunch." 

"I am just a bit hungry. Maybe if I eat a little, I'll feel better." 

"Let the duty nurse know if you need an antacid. She can make sure your tummy is taken care of." 

"Thanks. See you later, Doctor." 

Slowly exiting the doctor's office, Blair headed toward the dining room. He dragged his feet and slumped his shoulders. Carefully he maneuvered around several other patients slurping noodles and chunks of chicken. He stood silently until one of the cooks noticed him. 

"Mr. Sandburg, lunch?"

"Yes, please." 

"We have some hot homemade chicken and rice soup today, and also a shrimp and noodle dish. It has a nice cream sauce on it." 

"Really? Fresh shrimp? That's a real treat." Blair hid his surge of excitement. 

"Yes, it is. Seems that one of our patient's relatives runs a shrimp boat out in the harbor and he brought us a nice box of freshly caught shrimp just this morning. It's George's favorite dish." 

Blair's head came up and he held his breath. Shrimp. He was allergic to shrimp. He remembered that fact as clearly as he remembered his own name, his lover's name, and his place in Jim Ellison's life. But apparently, this fact was unknown to the care facility because he knew that the cooks had a list of known allergies for the seven patients who were currently living in the expensive, private hospice. He briefly wondered how much shrimp he had to consume to send his body into anaphylactic shock, but not kill himself. Blair also knew that the home didn't have the ability to care for a seriously ill patient. That patient would be transported to the nearest hospital, just like one of the women who suffered a heart attack several months ago. 

Blair's momentary trepidation was quickly squelched. Either he'd get out of here today, or he'd die trying. He was tired of this life, and his patience was gone. Jim was in major trouble, he knew, and he had to find him. Decision made, he smiled. 

"I'll have some of that shrimp and noodle dish, please." Blair watched while the cook served him a good-sized portion. He took the steaming plate between his hands, willing them not to tremble, and carefully took it over to one of the empty tables. Grabbing a fork, he sucked in a steadying breath before he huffed it out. Then he ate quickly. 

\-------------------------------------------------

"Blair! Sweetie? Can you hear me?"

"Mom?" Blair's eyes slowly opened and he glanced around. His mother was hovering beside him, her eyes red and puffy. "Sorry." 

"How are you feeling?" Naomi asked in a tired voice. 

Blair almost cried in triumph when he saw that he was in a curtained off portion of a hospital emergency room. Finally, something was going his way! Further inspection revealed that he had a nasal cannula in his nose and an IV line in his arm. "Sorry," he repeated before he asked, "What happened?"

"You ate shrimp. Apparently, it triggered a severe reaction. I didn't know you were even allergic!" she cried, touching his arm. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Why didn't I tell you? Maybe it's because I don't remember anything of my life apparently. You keep telling me that the last four years were a dream. How do you expect me to remember something so minor as a shrimp allergy?" Blair said tensely. "After all, I have a brain injury. There's no way for me to know what's true and what I've dreamt up, now, is there?" 

"Oh, Blair. I'm trying to do what's best for you!" Naomi paced for a few moments before she turned, wringing her hands. "I don't know how much longer I can take these -- episodes! You've been at death's door for years now! All I do is hover beside your bed. I don't have any life of my own! It's too much... I need to..." She bit her lip and turned away. "I do love you, sweetie." 

"I know, mom. I know. It's been really hard on you." 

"Do you know they thought you were going to need to be put on life support again? You had to be given at least three different emergency injections! Blair, I can't sit beside your bed for another four years!" 

"Mom, please..." 

Naomi sighed and her shoulders slumped. "What do you want from me?" she asked tiredly. 

"Could I have a drink of water, please?" 

She turned and her eyes met her son's. "Sure, sweetie. Let me go and make sure it's okay." She glanced nervously around. "I'm not supposed to leave you alone..." 

"Mom, do I look like I'm going anywhere?"

"Well..." Poking her head out from behind the curtain, she glanced back over her shoulder. "Everybody's very busy out there." 

"Don't bother anybody asking about getting me a drink. They're saving lives. I'm fine. Please, mom. I'm really thirsty." 

"Okay, honey. You relax." 

"Will do." Blair gave her a sweet smile. "I love you." 

Naomi nodded. "Me, too." 

When the curtain slipped shut, Blair immediately yanked the tape and IV needle from his arm and the cannula from his nose. Taking several steadying breaths, he slid from the gurney. Holding onto the side of the metal frame, he reached underneath and pulled out a plastic bag. Dumping the contents onto the mattress, he sighed. His clothes had been cut from his body while he was unconscious, rendering them useless. His shoes and socks were there, so he quickly slipped into them. 

With an exasperated sigh, he glanced around. Naomi's coat and purse were tossed onto a chair beside his gurney. He overturned the purse. Grabbing the car keys, he took all the cash and considered taking the credit card. Knowing how easily traceable it would be, he dropped it back onto the small pile. Pulling the coat from the back of the chair, he shrugged into the item. It was black and thankfully, fell to his knees. Buttoning it, he shoved the keys and money into a pocket and quietly crossed to the slit in the curtain that separated his cubicle from the main part of the room. 

Doctors, nurses, EMTs and a few people dressed in street clothes occupied the room. Some of the curtains separating the large room into smaller sections were pulled around individual gurneys, and Blair could see feet moving beneath the curtains. He also saw blood on the floor, but the sight didn't even faze him. His main concern was escape. 

Carefully judging when most of the staff were busy helping patients, Blair confidently crossed the room and pushed open the double doors leading to the hallway. Several doctors and nurses were making their way down the hallway toward the ER -- and him. Glancing around, he saw a room marked "Family/Friends Waiting Area" directly across from the ER's main entrance. Ducking into the room, he smiled and nodded at several people sitting together in small clusters, obviously awaiting word about a loved one. He saw down on a sofa next to a stack of coats, hats and gloves, and after making sure that the room's occupants weren't paying him much attention, Blair extracted a knit cap and a pair of gloves. He rose, clutching the items in his hand, and nonchalantly strolled to the door. A cautious peek down the hallway to be sure the coast was clear; then he headed toward the nearest exit, pulling the hat down low over his forehead and the gloves onto his hands. 

\---------------------------------------------

The cold air felt good against his face after the stifling heat of the hospital. He fished the keys from his pocket and glanced at the small metallic disc on the ring. "Save the Whales." Blair snorted. He held the remote control aloft and pressed it. It took several turns this way and that while he walked through the parking lot before headlights flashed and a car horn beeped once. With a smile on his face, he raced toward the pretty blue Toyota Prius. 

Climbing into the hybrid vehicle, he knew that his mother bought the car to help the environment. He loved that about her; her care for all living things. But she had betrayed him, he reminded himself. Yes, she loved him, but her needs and desires came before his; always had, always would. With a sigh, he cranked the engine, turned on the headlights and headed out of the parking lot. 

Two blocks from the hospital, he saw a sign for Interstate 5. A check of the gas gauge showed a full tank, so he raced up the northbound entrance ramp. Checking the signs, he saw that he was in Portland, and had about 175 miles to go to Cascade. Not surprised that he had no idea where he was, he knew that the place in which he had been incarcerated was situated so that the patients were oblivious to their whereabouts. The high stone wall around the single-floor facility that had been his home for who knows how long had shown Blair only treetops no matter in which direction he looked. He was relieved that he wasn't further away from his home than Portland. 

"Three hours, four tops," Blair said softly. "You'll be home! Jim will help you." With a deep sigh of relief, he cranked up the heat. 

Not bothering to turn on the radio, Blair settled back and thought about his reunion with Jim. He drove cautiously, keeping within the speed limit and making the outskirts of Cascade in just over three and a half hours. He headed down Rampart and cut over on Villa to Prospect. Circling the block twice, he didn't see Jim's truck in its usual place, nor were there lights visible in the loft's windows. 

Blair parked down the block and still aware that he was dressed somewhat strangely, he ducked into the laundromat a half a block from the loft. He knew that often the apartment dwellers in the neighborhood started the washers and dryers, then went home for the forty-five minutes to an hour it took for the machines to run through their cycles. Without a second thought, he stopped the first dryer. Only women's clothing, and not a pair of jeans in sight. The second dryer was full of towels. The third finally yielded a pair of blue jeans two sizes too big. With a shrug, he climbed into the still damp material, zipped up, and slipped outside. 

With a cautious glance around, Blair climbed the three flights of stairs to the loft. He stood in front of apartment 307 and nervously rubbed his hands on his thighs. Raising a hand, he knocked. When no one responded, Blair leaned down and looked under the door. The interior was dark. On tiptoes, he ran his fingers along the upper door jam and with a cry of triumph, he found what he had been searching for -- his spare key. Hand shaking slightly, he seated the key, turned it, and pushed the door open. 

\---------------------------------------------

Dazedly, Blair climbed back into the Toyota and slammed the door. "Shit, shit, shit," he said forlornly, pounding his fist on his leg. "Was I dreaming? I couldn't have been dreaming! I am so fucked." He rubbed his knuckles into his eyes and stifled a sob. How could the loft be so empty? Where were his things? Where were Jim's? And more importantly, where was Jim? He was so tired! Rubbing his temples, he forced himself to think. What to do. What to do... Simon! Starting the car, Blair headed across town to Simon's bungalow. 

Arriving on Davenport, he almost cried with relief when he saw Simon's Chrysler LeBaron parked in his driveway next to Daryl's Jeep Wrangler. Letting out a small sob of relief, Blair pulled into the driveway and killed the headlights. He sat in the car for a long minute, afraid to get out to knock on the door. What if Simon was home and didn't recognize him? What would he do? With a small shake of his head, he pushed the door open and climbed out. Shivering in the cold night air, he had started across the lawn when the front door was flung open. A large black man stepped out. Blair's eyes met the surprised brown ones, and in the street light's glow he saw Simon's mouth drop open. 

Blair stopped. Simon took two steps forward. 

"Sandburg! Oh my God! You're alive!" 

Simon moved forward again, reached Blair and wrapped strong arms around his shaking body. He looked up into the familiar face with a trembling smile and passed out cold.

\--------------------------------------------

Simon rubbed large hands down his dark face. "Geez, Sandburg. That's some story! You're lucky you're alive to tell it." 

Blair sighed tiredly. "Yeah, I know," he said softly, sipping the hot sweetened coffee that Simon had pressed into his hands. He closed his eyes and savored the heat seeping into his hands, and the flavor coating his tongue. "I haven't had coffee for... a long time. Taste's good." Taking another sip, he licked his lips and fell silent. Raising his eyes from the cup, he looked into Simon's and asked, "Will you help me find him?"

"Yes," Simon said without hesitation. "I tried, Blair. I really tried. That next day, after you and Jim disappeared, I was in shock. The loft was empty. You were gone. Jim was gone. I tried to find Naomi, but even she'd disappeared. Taggart, Rafe, Brown and Connor spent the next two weeks looking for anything that would tell us what had happened. They spent every second of their free time searching, but, well, nothing." Simon leaned his elbows on his knees and hung his head. "I'm sorry I didn't try harder." 

Blair straightened his shoulders. "Hey, no way, Simon! You did everything you could. I know that. It's just so -- fucking wonderful that you're... real! You just don't know how many times I doubted myself, doubted Jim. I have to find him!" 

"Listen, you're exhausted and I'll bet you're hungry, too. Why don't I fix you a sandwich and then I'll make some calls." 

Blair smiled. "Thanks, man. That would be great. I am tired." His eyes closed for a moment before he opened them widely. "Be careful! Simon, you have to be careful! If anybody knows you're hiding me... Oh, the car! It's stolen!" 

Simon rose. "Relax. One step at a time. First, food for you, then sleep. I'll take care of the car-"

"You will? But it's against the law. I don't feel right-" 

"Save it," he growled softly. "This is my house, my city, and we'll do this my way." 

Blair nodded, his throat closing with emotion. "Thank you," he whispered. "It's just so -- nice to see you." 

"You, too, Sandburg," Simon said, clumsily patting Blair's arm. "I'll be back in five." 

True to his word, Simon returned in minutes with a ham and cheese sandwich on whole wheat. "I put mayo on since you had some, ah, stomach trouble earlier. That spicy mustard might not be a good idea. Refill?" he added, seeing Blair's empty cup. 

"Yes, please." Blair took the plate with a nod of thanks. As Simon turned to leave, he called, "Simon?" 

"Yes?" 

"I- I- Thanks." 

Simon smiled. "Me, too." 

\--------------------------------------------------

When Blair woke to the darkened room, he was momentarily disoriented before he realized he was in Daryl's bedroom. He hadn't even awakened when Simon had, apparently, moved him from the sofa to the bedroom. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he slipped from the bed and out into the hall. The house was quiet. Padding barefoot to the bathroom, he used the toilet and looked longingly at the shower. A knock at the door startled him. 

"Sandburg?" 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Blair called, "Simon?" 

"You okay in there? I have clean clothes. You want a shower?" 

"Yes, please!" The door opened a crack and a dark hand holding clean clothes slipped through. 

"Here's a few things of Daryl's. They should fit you." 

Blair took the items with a smile. "Thanks, man. I smell really bad." A deep chuckle made his smile widen. It felt so good to be here with someone who understood; who believed him. 

"We'll have dinner when you're finished." 

"Dinner? What happened to breakfast?" 

"Ah, you slept through breakfast and lunch. It's past seven, dinner time." 

"Wow, I must have been tired." 

"Take your time. Food in half an hour." 

"Okay. Thanks." 

The hot water, shampoo and soap revived Blair considerably. He dried and dressed, feeling much better. Glancing into the mirror, he grimaced at the short curls. "Man, I have to grow some hair." Seeing the unopened toothbrush that Simon must have put out for him, he ripped into the packaging and brushed thoroughly. Rinsing his mouth, he grinned into the mirror. "Now that feels fantastic," he said, running his tongue over his clean teeth. "Thank you, Simon. Love you, man." With a shake of his head at his silliness, he went to eat. 

\----------------------------------------------

Dinner eaten and with hot cups of coffee in hand, the men retreated to the comfort of the living room sofa. 

"The car?" Blair finally asked. 

"Gone." 

"Oh, man. I am so sorry." 

Simon shrugged. "Nobody will find it. It's in a hundred small pieces now." 

"It's all my fault-" 

"Stop it right now. You're in danger. We don't have a clue who took you or Jim, so I'm not taking any chances." 

"But Simon, you're a cop! I've made you do something you should never have had to do! Besides, I need to get out of here. I'm putting you in danger." 

Pointing a finger, Simon said firmly, "I'm your friend too. Jim's also. What was done to you isn't right! But I'm smart enough to know that even my government, which I honor and respect, has… nefarious people behind the scenes. Besides, it could very well have been some international or underground organization that snatched both of you." Simon nervously looked around. "You know and I know that this was done because of Jim's abilities. They took him to use him. They hid you away so you couldn't talk. Your revelation about Jim's abilities being -- fraudulent must have not been believed." 

"Obviously." 

"So now that you're rested and fed, I have news." 

Blair sat up quickly. "What? Tell me!" 

"I talked to Jack Kelso. He-" 

"You did? Why...? How...?" 

"After you and Jim vanished, I asked Jack to look into your disappearance. I wondered if it was something that he could uncover. He wasn't able to help then, but now, with what you told me about your… incarceration, and now that we know that you and Jim were taken under more than suspicious circumstances..." Simon turned on the sofa and faced his friend. "He tells me he's found out where Jim is." 

"Oh my God!" Blair paled. "Where? Is he okay? When can I see him?" 

Simon turned the coffee cup around in his hand. "It's not that simple." 

Blair sat his cup down and leaned forward. "I don't care. Just tell me where he is. And skip the long, detailed story about everything. Tell me, please." 

Simon sighed. "I don't… D.C." 

"D.C.? Washington, D.C.?" 

"Yes." 

"I'm leaving right away." 

"It's not that simple! You're life is -. You can't just board a plane. You have no ID. I'll bet you a million bucks that the Feds have you marked for pickup, and Jack agrees with me. And Jim... Well, he's not the same person, according to Jack." 

"I don't care!" Blair cried. "I'm going! Nothing will stop me from finding Jim. I don't care how long it takes. I don't care if I have to move space and time, I will find him!" 

Simon grabbed Blair's arm when he tried to rise. "I know you're going! Geez, Sandburg, give me some credit here. Jack and I worked out a plan." 

Blair stopped and looked into Simon's eyes for a few moments before he nodded. "Okay. Sorry. It's just been so long... I thought you might try to stop me. How long has it been anyway? I didn't realize until this second that I have no idea how long I was… gone." 

"Fourteen months." 

"What? Those bastards stole fourteen months of my life?" 

"You just calm down or you're not going anywhere!" 

Blair's hands clenched into fists. "I am so tired of being told to calm down! That's all I've heard for months now!" 

"Do you want to do this right, Sandburg?" Simon asked calmly. Blair remained silent for a minute before he finally nodded. "Okay, then. Here's the plan. Jack's gotten you ID and I've gotten you a train ticket. Now don't look at me like that. I know a train is kind of slow, but it's the only way. It's easier than driving, and you can't go through security at the airport. It keeps you off the roads and out of the sights of the authorities. Right?" When Blair nodded again, Simon continued, "You're going to have to be patient. I've also gotten you some clothes and things for the disguise." He gave a roll of his eyes. 

"What aren't you telling me? What is this disguise?" 

"Here," Simon said, reaching onto the coffee table and moving aside a large book. Underneath sat a business-sized white envelope. "Everything you need." 

Blair nodded, taking the envelope. He dumped the contents into his lap. The train ticket showed the train left from Cascade's secondary station in two hours. There was also a small pile of money, a driver's license, and a piece of paper with an address written in thick, block letters. Blair's throat closed and he felt himself tear up. Could he finally be getting close to Jim? He swallowed hard before looking at the picture on the license and started to laugh. 

"Oh, man. I think I can handle this." 

Simon grinned. "It does kind of look like you, doesn't it?" 

Blair chuckled, rising. "Jack is good. Very good. Where are my new threads?" 

"I laid them out in Daryl's room while you were showering. Listen..." he paused. 

"Hey, I understand. I appreciate everything you've done for me. I'm just so worried that you've endangered your life by helping me. Maybe even Daryl's if they track me." 

"Daryl will be fine. He's in Costa Rica for six weeks with a group of students studying the anthropological sites. He'll be okay." Simon shrugged. "As for me, I'll be okay too. You just go and change. Oh, you'd better dye your hair first." He looked at Blair with amusement before he added, "What's left of it anyway." 

\------------------------------------------

"Sandburg, even your own mother wouldn't recognize you," Simon said in a surprised voice. He kept glancing over at his disguised companion, who sat in the passenger's seat, leg bouncing nervously. 

"Cool." Blair arched a blond eyebrow. The fake ring that looked very authentic rose and fell, making Simon roll his eyes. The metal ball glued in the center of his chin looked utterly ridiculous but Simon admitted that it fit with his new persona. The bleached blond hair, streaked with lines of red, looked rather silly, Blair thought, and the brown contact lenses gave his face a totally different look. Scratching at the nose ring that was clamped under his nostrils, he grinned, showing three gold teeth. "Looks good, doesn't it?"

"Not hardly," Simon groused, glancing at the ratty jeans, the black leather jacket with the devil's head emblazoned across the back, and the chain mail shirt underneath the jacket. Heavy black motorcycle boots, complete with dangling silver chains, finished off the ensemble. "I like the old Sandburg better." 

"Thanks, Simon. I mean that. Thanks." 

"Sandburg, just find Jim and... Run. Run and hide. Leave the country. Just be safe, okay?"

"Okay," Blair said in a quiet voice. "I'll miss you." 

Simon pulled up in front of the train station. Blair opened the door, but a strong hand clamped on his arm. "Take care." 

Blair smiled sadly. "I'll let you know." 

"Not if it's not safe. You hear me?" 

Blair nodded and glanced around. The street was deserted for the moment, so he slipped across the seat and quickly hugged the broad shoulders. Simon hugged him back briefly, patting his back. 

"Go. Get out of here." 

"Love you, too." 

\------------------------------------------------

Blair stood in front of 213 Hawthorne. He ran a hand nervously through his short hair. He'd washed out as much of the dye as he could in the train station men's room, but even though the stuff claimed to be washable, remnants of the coloring made his hair a strange, yellowish brown color. Gone were the fake piercings and contact lenses, and he had changed into plain jeans and a navy sweatshirt, courtesy of Daryl, but still wore the black leather jacket, the only coat he had. 

The solid wood gate blocked his view of the house and a glance to the left and right showed that the entire dwelling was hidden behind a six foot brick wall. Placing his hand on a rough redwood stained board, he took in a shaky breath before huffing it out. He was so nervous! But he was happy and excited also. Finally, after all this time, he would be reunited with his lover, his partner, his best friend in the universe. Blair had envisioned their reunion so many times that it seemed almost real. Jim would see him, call out his name, and gather him in his arms, crying and laughing at the same time, happy beyond words to have his lover returned to him. Smiling, Blair opened the gate. 

\----------------------------------------

With an unhappy sigh, Blair stood at the top of the steps leading to the front door, chewing the inside of his cheek. He shoved his hands into his pockets and considered what to do next. Since Jim wasn't home and there was no way he was missing any chance to see him as soon as possible, he shrugged and sat down on the steps. He crossed his arms on his knees and rested his head on them. Tired after the past few days of traveling and getting little sleep, even his excitement couldn't keep him awake any longer. 

\----------------------------------------

Blair didn't know which was worse. Being forcefully yanked to his feet, having the cold barrel of a gun pressed against his temple, or hearing the voice he had waited months to hear, speak so coldly to him. 

"What the fuck are you doing here?" 

He blinked stupidly and swayed. 

"Get out. You have five seconds before I kill you." 

Blair shivered and tried to turn his head. The grip on the collar of his jacket, squeezing his neck and almost choking him made it impossible for him to move. The barrel of the pistol digging into his skin didn't help either. The cold steel pressed harder. "J- jim?" Abruptly he was released. Stumbling, he fell to his knees. 

"Get out." 

"Jim, it's-"

"Five..." 

"Jim, please..." The barrel was once again pushed into his temple. 

"Four..." 

"It's me. Blair! Jim!" 

"Three..." 

The gun cocked. The metallic sound made Blair shake harder. "P- please!" 

"Two..." 

"Oh, God," Blair whispered. 

"One..." 

Blair moaned softly. Holding out his hands, he closed his eyes and waited. Still pressed against his temple, the barrel wavered slightly. He swallowed hard before he blurted out, "Do it!" After a pause, and when nothing happened, he said tensely, "You might as well do it because I'm not leaving. After what I've been through this past year, if this is what you want; if this is how it's going to end, then shoot." Blair took in a decidedly shaky breath before he huffed it out. "It's too much. I can't do this any more! I can't live like this! I'm tired and unhappy and plain fucking miserable. Just shoot, you bastard!" 

Blair waited, eyes closed tightly. When the barrel moved away, he sank back onto his heels and wrapped his arms around his body. When nothing happened, he slowly opened his eyes and stared at the heavy black boots parked in front of his body. Cautiously he raised his head ever so slowly until he reached Jim's chest. He saw the heaving torso and the clenched hands. The hand with the pistol was white from the force of the grip he had on the weapon. Gulping, Blair bit his lip and raised his face until he finally reached Jim's own face. The cold blue eyes met his, and all he saw there was… hate. Gasping, he put a hand over his mouth. 

"Jim?" Blair said from behind his fingers. "It's me... Blair." 

"I know who the fuck you are." 

"But why...?" Words failed the usually talkative man and he dropped his head, unable to withstand the nonverbal onslaught directed his way. "Jim, please..." he begged. 

A strong hand gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet. Jim's face almost touched his and his words were cold and hard. "You have a lot of balls coming here after what you did. What happened? You aren't the darling of the media any longer? You blew all that money already? You fucked the wrong woman and you're hiding from her old man? I never thought you'd be this stupid." Jim dropped his hand and rubbed it on his coat as if to erase any contact with Blair. "Get out now before I change my mind." He turned away and after unlocking the deadbolt, slammed the door in his face. 

Blair stood, stunned. What had he done? Jim must hate him for what had happened between them. But he hadn't initiated things that night; Jim had. Sure, he had admitted out loud that he was in love with Jim, but Jim had returned the favor, pledging his love to Blair. Then Jim had led him up the stairs to the main bedroom and slowly and gently made love to him. He was kind and sweet and considerate. They clung to each other, shared a few emotional moments, and then fell asleep in each other's arms. The next day... Blair was fairly certain that by the next morning, he and Jim had been kidnapped, but he definitely remembered the night in his lover's arms. 

"Jim!" Blair called, knocking. "Let me in. I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on. You owe me that much!" He rubbed his hands down his face before banging loudly on the door again. "Damn you, Ellison!" 

The door flew open. "You really don't want to live, do you?" 

Blair shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and looked directly into Jim's eyes. "Not without you." 

Jim's face remained cold, but Blair saw the tiniest bit of surprise in his eyes. He stepped forward and tentatively asked, "Can we talk?" When Jim remained silent, he added softly, "Please?" 

Jim's nostrils flared. "You betrayed me. You sold me out for money. You set me up for anybody with a beef and a weapon. You-"

"What in the fuck are you talking about? I sold you out for money?" 

Jim reached out and grabbed Blair's coat, clenching his fist in the material. "You betrayed me and our -- my friends, my colleagues. You have blood on your hands, Sandburg. I hope you burn in hell." 

Blair's eyes widened. "I don't- Where did you hear this shit?" 

"Shit?" Jim growled. "You don't even have the balls to admit what you did? You came crawling here for my forgiveness-"

"Now wait just a second," Blair ordered, quickly becoming angry. "There is no way I came looking for your forgiveness! I don't have a clue what the hell you're talking about!" 

Jim's eyes narrowed and he yanked Blair into the small house. He dragged him into the tiny living room and shoved him into the straight-back chair planted in front of the television that sat on two cement blocks. Hurriedly glancing around, Blair noticed that the room was empty of furniture except for this one chair. A very large weight/exercise bench and a treadmill occupied most of the tiny space. Otherwise, the entire room was devoid of any personal items. 

"What is wrong with you?" Blair shouted. "My entire life has been … derailed, and you don't remember anything about what happened between us?" 

Angrily, Jim punched a button on the remote control. When the television set came on, he hit another button that started the VCR that sat on top of the television. He crossed his arms and stared at the television. Blair nervously glanced into Jim's hard face before his head swiveled quickly. He heard a voice; his voice, emerge from the television's speakers. 

Blair watched closely. The setting was unfamiliar, but he saw 'himself' approach the bank of microphones standing in front of a lectern. Puzzled, he listened. 

"Good evening, everyone. My name is Blair Sandburg and I'm a doctoral candidate at Rainier University. My field of study is anthropology and my specialty is Sentinels. A Sentinel is a man," Television-Blair smiled, "or woman who possesses enhanced senses. They have the ability to see, hear, feel, smell and taste far beyond the capabilities of most normal humans. I am happy to announce that I have been studying one of these Sentinels for the past three years. His name is Detective James Ellison of the Cascade Police Department. 

"I have been Detective Ellison's civilian observer and I have made a careful study of his abilities. Thanks to my mother, my work, which I had envisioned as only my thesis, has now expanded into something much more exciting. It will now be published by Berkshire Publishing, a prestigious firm located in New York. Also, I am pleased to announce that I have optioned the movie rights of my book, The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg, to Pet Fly Productions in Hollywood, California." Television-Blair paused and looked into the audience, nodding and smiling as if he was born to be famous. The camera panned to an attractive red-haired woman. The ticker under the woman's picture stated, "Naomi Sandburg, Mother of Blair Sandburg".

"Again, thanks to my mother, the Nobel committee is considering my research for its science award. I would like to take this opportunity to publicly thank my mother for her unfailing support and love during this exciting time." Looking at Naomi, Television-Blair smiled. "I'll be sharing my millions with you, Mom. I love you!" 

Blair sat in stunned silence. There had been a press conference, of course, but this wasn't it! He didn't remember accepting the money for his thesis; he didn't remember admitting to the world that Jim was a Sentinel. Quite the opposite. He clearly recalled declaring himself a fraud and being fired from his job at the university. He clearly remembered going to the bullpen to say goodbye to his friends. He clearly remembered Jim, along with their friends: Simon, in his wheelchair, Megan, with her arm still in a sling, both felled by bullets from Klaus Zeller's weapon, looking pleased at the shocked expression on his face when Jim tossed him the detective's badge. He clearly remembered his mother's happy expression. She was also pleased at the offer. At least, that's what he had thought - until now. 

Blair rose slowly. He turned to look at Jim, who had been standing beside him while the tape played. His face was a blank mask; his eyes open. Blair took the remote from his hand and hit the 'off' button. He moved closer to Jim and sighed, knowing without a doubt that he was zoned. But why? 

"Jim? Hey, ah, why don't..." Blair stopped. A small trickle of fear prickled along his spine. What was going on? That press conference on Jim's tape was a fake! He had to convince Jim that they had been kidnapped and used against their wills. He had been locked up for fourteen months and undoubtedly would still be incarcerated if he hadn't escaped. He knew without a doubt that 'they', whoever they were, had no intention of letting him go - ever. Now they had apparently brainwashed Jim. And Jim truly believed that Blair had betrayed him. Rubbing his eyes, he felt like crying. No wonder Jim hadn't come for him. He believed that Blair had sold him out. 

With a shake of his head, Blair touched Jim's face. "Jim, man. It's Blair. We need to talk. You've been hurt, really hurt. I need you to listen to me. Come back and talk to me. God, Jim, I've missed you so much! Please!" 

Jim's eyes blinked slowly and he shuddered. Then his eyes closed and he breathed in and out heavily several times before he opened them and said, "I hate you." 

A knife sliced through Blair's heart. Involuntarily, his eyes welled with tears. "Jim, please. You have to listen to me!" 

"No, I don't. You killed my friends!" 

"What?" Blair said softly, shocked. "I - what?"

"Simon! You remember Simon Banks, don't you?" Jim cried, grabbing Blair's jacket and shaking him. "What about Connor and Brown and Rafe? Did you forget them too? And Taggart. He loved you like his own son!" 

Blair hands wrapped around Jim's wrist. "Forget about them? Hell, Jim, who do you think helped me find you? Simon Banks! He helped me. He gave me a place to hide! He risked his life and his career when I needed him most! I'd never forget him!" 

Jim's eyes narrowed. "What?" 

"I - I don't understand! Simon isn't dead. I just talked to him a few days ago!" 

Jim shook Blair harder. "You're lying!" 

"No! Can't you smell his cigars on my clothes? For God's sake, Jim, you're a Sentinel! You can tell if I'm lying! Just call him! When you hear his voice-" 

Jim's eyes grew wide. His hands dropped; Blair fell backward at the sudden release and landed with a hard thump on his backside. "He's alive?" he asked incredulously. 

Blair nodded. "Yeah, of course he is." 

"Connor? Brown?"

"They're all alive. Working as usual. I didn't get to see -" 

"Why are you doing this?"

"What? Telling you the truth?" Blair snapped. 

Jim fell silent for a long moment before he said quietly, "I can't... I can't tell if you're lying." 

"Why not? You've done it a hundred-"

"Because they're… turned off." 

"What?" Blair's eyes searched Jim's face. "You mean, they're gone?"

"No. They found a drug... I only use them when I... As long as I'm on the medication, they're off." 

"Jim, that's not good. Your senses are part of you. You can't function this way!" 

"I don't feel this way ." 

"I don't understand."

Jim dropped his head and sighed. "I don't feel anything this way. Nothing. Nothing but the hate." 

"Oh," Blair whispered dejectedly. "You hate me." 

"I have to." 

Blair cocked his head, looking puzzled. "Why?" When Jim turned away, he rose and reached out a hand. He almost touched Jim's arm, but at the last moment, he pulled his hand back. "Why, Jim? Why do you have to… hate me?" 

"It stops the pain." 

"Oh, God. Jim, how? Tell me." Blair moved around to look into Jim's face. "Tell me exactly how it stops the pain." 

Jim shrugged. "I don't remember." 

"Then tell me what you do remember." At Jim's hesitation, Blair asked quietly, "Please. Tell me." 

"When I… hated you, the pain stopped. The more I felt the hate, the less pain there was. So now it doesn't hurt when I hate you." 

"Oh, God. Oh, God." Blair paced to the door and back. "They tortured you. Didn't they? They tortured you until you hated me. Then the pain stopped. Right?" 

Again, Jim shrugged. 

"Did they make you watch the tape?" 

"Yeah." 

"Tell me about Simon and our friends. Tell me." 

"I can show you." 

Blair nodded. "Okay. Good. Show me." 

Jim picked up the remote that Blair had dropped and pushed play. He forced his eyes back to the small screen. He held his breath when he saw the familiar face of one of Cascade's local newscasters, and when he heard the words that came forth, he couldn't help it; again his eyes teared up and this time, the tears spilled down his cheeks. 

"Gunned down in a spectacular firefight with authorities just minutes ago, alleged international hit man Klaus Zeller is no longer a threat to the security and safety of the City of Cascade. Zeller is the man authorities believe was responsible for the deaths of Detective Henri Brown, Detective Brian Rafe, and Captain Joel Taggart, all members of the Major Crime department of the Cascade Police Department. Zeller went on a rampage at the precinct earlier today, firing over two hundred rounds into the squad room of Major Crime. Also caught in the crossfire were Rhonda Clark, one of the secretarial staff, and Dolly Madison, a food service employee." 

Blair watched in utter shock and horror when each person's picture was flashed across the screen. "No," he whispered, hand over his mouth. "This is awful. So awful!" 

"Zeller is the same individual who, just two days ago, allegedly shot and killed Captain Simon Banks, head of Major Crime, and visiting police officer, Inspector Megan Connor of the New South Wales Police Department. They were also gunned down in the very same squad room where, today, Zeller staged his final stand. 

"Inspector Connor was in the United States as part of a guest officer exchange. Although Captain Banks and Inspector Connor were alive when the paramedics transported them to Cascade Memorial Hospital, doctors were unable to save them from the hit man's specially made Teflon-coated bullets. 

"This brings the body count allegedly attributed to Zeller to a total of ninety-seven victims worldwide..." 

"Jim, man. This is all crap!" Blair yanked the remote from Jim's hand and turned off the television. He stomped over to the VCR and hit the eject button. Grabbing the black plastic case, he smashed it over his knee before yanking out strands of the black tape. He didn't stop until he had a pile of it at his feet. "This is not true!" he insisted, strings of tape cascading from his hands as he waved them through the air. "Simon is fine. He told me the rest of the people from the bullpen are fine! You've been brainwashed!" Blair's eyes blazed. "They turned your senses against you. They forced you to watch this shit and then when you wouldn't go along, they did something to you! They hurt you! This is not real!" he said vehemently, waving a hand at the television. "But I am! I'm real! Look at me, damn you!" 

When Jim refused to look into Blair's eyes, he wrapped a hand around Jim's shirt and yanked hard. "Listen to me, you bastard. They kidnapped me and kept me full of drugs for fourteen months! I waited and waited for you to come for me!" Blair's grip tightened. "I almost died to get to you! I never betrayed you! I ate shrimp for you, you prick!" He paused, breathing heavily. He breathed in and out several times, trying to calm his racing heart and pounding head before he spoke again. "You heard my press conference! The real one. Not this..." He waved at the television, "... shit! You saw it on the television in the bullpen. At the hospital, you came up to me and told me you saw it. You have to remember!" Blair ordered. "Think! I told you Simon and Megan were going to be okay. You said I was the best partner you ever had. You said I was the best friend you ever had! And then we found Zeller!?" He snorted. "Actually, he found us. He shot up the bullpen. You chased him up to the roof. Remember? Jim, do you remember? He tossed a rope over-" Blair stopped and looked at the disbelieving expression on Jim's face. "Do you remember any of this? Do you believe me? Jim?" 

Jim still refused to speak. Blair's eyes narrowed and he exploded. "Where's the telephone?" he demanded. Walking around the room and out into the tiny kitchen, he stomped back to stand in front of Jim. "Where's the fucking phone? We're calling Simon right this second!" 

Jim snorted and finally spoke. "Right. Like you couldn't have somebody in on this… deception with you. Simon's dead. I saw the news reports! Just because you busted the tape doesn't make the truth suddenly change!"

"Oh, for God's sake! Do you or do you not have a damned phone?" Blair shouted. 

"Yes!" Jim shouted in return, finally pulling the small cell phone from his pocket. 

Blair threw up his hands. "Thank you! God, but you are a stubborn bastard! Now this is what you're going to do!" he ordered, poking a finger into Jim's chest. "You're going outside or into the bedroom or wherever you choose and you're going to call somebody you trust in Cascade. I don't care who it is! Your father. Steven. Simon, Megan... I don't care! I don't even want to know who it is! Pick somebody we both know or better yet, somebody you know, but I don't!" He glared and pushed against Jim's chest. "You haven't spoken to anybody in Cascade, have you? What about your father? Your brother? You disappeared without a word to them, and you didn't even bother to let them know you're alive? What is wrong with you?" 

The muscle in Jim's jaw twitched, but still, he stood silent and angry. Blair pushed against Jim's chest until he grabbed Blair's hand with narrowed eyes. Meeting the equally angry glare with his own irritated look, Blair ordered, "Go! Call now and ask. Ask them if they remember hearing that seven people associated with the Cascade PD were killed in a shooting rampage by a madman! Nobody would ever forget something like that in their own city! Now go and call!" 

Jim's eyes narrowed and he took a half a step closer, ready to protest, when Blair yanked his hand from Jim's grasp and crossed his arms. "Now! Do it," he ordered harshly. 

Jim shrugged and said testily, "You're lying and I'll prove it to you. Then you'll be sorry." Jim disappeared into the back of the house. Blair sank onto the hard chair and sighed, hanging his head. He rubbed his dry eyes and aching temples, and waited. He sat contemplating what he should do next until he heard Jim's shuffling steps return. He turned in the chair and flung his arm across the back. When he gazed into Jim's face, his throat closed. Jim's eyes were wide; he was pale and breathing shallowly. His face was covered in a light sheen of sweat and his hands were trembling. 

"I- I- Not d- dead- Simon- Megan-" 

"Jim?" Blair rose and touched his arm. "Did you find out? Are you satisfied?" 

Nodding very slowly, their eyes met. "I- believe you," he whispered. "Zeller... They're not dead. They're not dead... The roof... I think- I'm starting to remember." 

"Yes! The roof! Zeller tried to escape. He tossed a rope over the roof and started to rappel down. Think about it!" 

Jim's eyes widened. "The... the rope!" 

"Yes!" Blair responded excitedly. "He shot at us while we were trying to figure out whether to haul him up or shoot him down! Remember! He fired and the bullet hit the rope. He fell onto a car roof! Splat! He died!" 

"Zeller..." Jim blinked slowly, then briefly closed his eyes before they flew open and bored into Blair's. "He's dead. Zeller's dead, but not Simon... Not Joel..." 

"We were all in the bullpen. Rafe was pushing Simon in his wheel chair. Megan was there. Henri. Rafe, too. My mother. Joel. Remember? You told me I was finished as an observer; then you tossed me the detective's shield. You were hurt; using a cane. You took a bullet in the knee." 

"Firearms training..." Jim whispered. 

"Right! Simon said that I would be your official partner if I passed firearms training and I said-" 

"You're not..." Jim pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "You said..."

"Yes?" Blair said encouragingly. "I said what?" 

"That you weren't cutting... your hair!" Jim's eyes met Blair's, wide with surprise and realization. 

"Yes!" Blair cried, clutching Jim's upper arms and shaking hard. "Yes! And then...?" 

"We... went to eat. All of us. No, wait. Naomi didn't... She begged off." 

"Yes, yes, yes!" Blair cried. "We went to O'Malley's. You had the biggest hamburger on the menu. Rare with the works!" 

Jim nodded, his face finally losing the hard edge and his eyes lighting up a bit. His hands wrapped around Blair's upper arms and they held onto each other. "And you didn't -- complain about me eating all that fat and all those calories." 

"No, I didn't. You deserved a treat." Blair smiled. For the first time since he had seen his partner, he finally smiled. "Then we went home." 

"Yes. Yes, I remember. We..." Jim's eyes searched Blair's face. "Did we? Oh, God." 

"We did. It was wonderful." 

"We - made love." 

"Yes, we certainly did." 

Jim closed his eyes. "You said - you loved me." 

Blair stepped closer. "And you said you loved me." 

Jim's hands dropped. Blair slipped his arms around Jim's waist and rested his head against the strong chest. "Jim," he said softly. When Jim's arms slowly circled Blair's shoulders, he let out a relieved sob. "Hold me," he whispered. "Please..." 

"Chief..." 

Unable to help himself, Blair buried his face in Jim's chest and shook. "Oh, God. Oh, God, Jim. Hold me." 

"Shhh. It's okay. I'm... so sorry! I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Blair." Jim's arms tightened. "I'm so sorry! What have I done? What have I done?" 

"Not your fault," Blair said, swiping his eyes with his fingertips. "It's... hers." 

"Who's?" 

"My mother's." Blair laughed coldly. "But then, I guess it is my fault, after all." 

Jim pushed Blair out at arm's length, but didn't release his hold. His hands rubbed Blair's upper arms. "No. It's not your fault. Do you hear me?" 

"But I..." 

"No," Jim growled. "No." 

"It is. I told her." 

"Told her what?"

"Well, I guess I didn't actually tell her. She heard." 

"Heard? Us, you mean? But I thought... Didn't she go to some... friend's place for the night? She said she had to - process. We were alone." 

"I never got to tell you because by the next morning..." Blair shivered. 

"It's okay," Jim said comfortingly, pulling Blair close once again. Pressing a hand against the back of his head, he cupped Blair's skull in his hand and lightly rubbed his palm on the short, curls. "Tell me. Tell me what happened." 

"We were kind of loud, remember? I mean, we thought we were alone. You were sweet and loving and I was… vocal." Blair sighed; Jim's arms held Blair tightly and his hand petted reassuringly. "I didn't hear her come in. She used the key I had given her. Afterward... after we made love, we fell asleep. I woke a while later and went down to the bathroom. She was sitting in the living room." 

"Oh, God, Chief. I'm sorry. Was she angry?" 

"Not your fault, man. Nothing to be sorry for. And no, she wasn't nasty or upset, but I didn't realize until later that she must have been furious with me, but especially with you." Blair sighed deeply. "I went down the stairs and saw her sitting in the dark so I went over and said hi. She turned to me with this happy smile. 'So you and Jim are together now?' 'Yes,' I said. Then she kind of looked at me with this… funny look. 'Oh. Does this mean you're taking his offer?' 'To be his partner? Yes, it does,' I replied. Then she got up and kissed me on the cheek. 'I'm going for a walk, sweetie,' she told me. 'I need to process.' So I let her go with a hug." Blair paused, unable to continue. 

"It's okay. Take your time. Why do you think she's responsible?" 

"Because it all fits. She's the one who sent my thesis in the first place. At first, I thought it was an accident, but after I thought about it - and I had fourteen months to think about it so trust me on this one, Jim - I realized that she had done it on purpose. She wanted you exposed. She wanted you destroyed; gone from my life. She saw we were close, too close, so she took action. The diss was the perfect opportunity." Blair stopped and leaned heavily against his lover. "I'm so tired!" he whispered. "Could I please have a glass of water?" 

Jim's lips found Blair's ear. "How about a nice, hot cup of coffee?" 

"Oh, yes, please. I'm so cold!" 

Jim gently led Blair into the small kitchen, where he noted that this room was as bare as the living room. 

"I only have instant." 

Blair arched an eyebrow. "I thought you hated instant." 

"I do." 

He glanced around at the austere surroundings. "You don't allow yourself any comfort, do you?" 

Jim shook his head. "I'm not entitled to any luxuries." 

"Oh, Jim," Blair said sadly, "that's not true." 

"Sit." Jim guided Blair into a hard chair that matched the one in the living room. 

Blair sat down with a tired groan. "Man, we have to talk about your idea of decorating." 

"It doesn't matter. I don't deserve..." Jim turned away and ran water into two cups, which he placed in the microwave. 

"What, Jim? Don't deserve what? Comfort? Love? Affection?" 

He was silent for a moment before he admitted, "Any of those." 

"If I wasn't so tired, I'd argue with you about such a stupid statement. Let me just say that is definitely a bunch of shit." 

Jim gave him a ghost of a smile before his face became sad. "I'm sorry, Chief." 

"Nothing to be sorry for. It's me who's sorry." 

The microwave dinged. Jim fished out the cups, dumped in a couple of spoons of coffee granules, and stirred. "No sugar. No cream." 

"This is fine. Thank you." 

Jim sat the cup down in front of Blair and lowered himself into the other chair. "Drink. You'll feel a bit better. You look like hell. And what is wrong with your hair?" 

Blair almost laughed. "Oh, man." He sipped the hot brew, savoring the bitter flavor. "It's such a long story. It will take hours to tell it, and I'm way too tired to do it right now."

"So... about… Naomi." 

"Oh right. Okay. My… mother." Blair sighed unhappily. "I think she sent the diss out on purpose. To destroy you. She figured you'd react badly." When Jim grimaced, he put a hand on his partner's arm. "Hey, she's a good judge of character some of the time. She figured you'd be upset, and she was right. What she didn't know is that you and I would work it out." 

"You mean she didn't figure in that you'd throw yourself on your sword. She expected me to toss you out on your ass and be done with you." 

"Well, yes. I think she did, but she doesn't know you like I do." Jim gave Blair a weak smile. He perked up a little, pleased to see even a bit of a smile from his unhappy partner. "So when we worked out our differences, and even went past them, she freaked. Not only were we still friends, I was seriously considering becoming your official partner. I think the sex was the icing on the cake." 

"It was for me," Jim said seriously. 

"Me, too. I mean, I loved it, but I think it was the last straw for her. Even though Naomi always put out this air of… total acceptance of everything. You know, peace and love." Jim nodded. Blair continued, "She was and still is a very controlling person. I didn't realize it until that time when she showed up in Simon's office and embarrassed the hell out of me by telling you guys I couldn't hack being a cop." 

"She was wrong, Chief. You're the best partner I've ever had," Jim offered. 

"Thanks, man." Blair swallowed and turned his face away. "Sorry. It's just… I've been so unhappy for so long, and it's wonderful being here with you..." 

"You ate shrimp?" Jim blurted out. 

Blair chuckled. "Yeah, it was the only thing I could think of. I couldn't escape from wherever." He waved a hand haphazardly through the air. "So I figured if I could get out of there somehow, I'd have a better chance. It took me months before I finally had a chance." 

"You took a hell of a risk. You could have died!"

"No, I was lucky. I was taken to a hospital, where I stole... borrowed a car and money from my mother," Blair grinned a bit sheepishly at his admission, "and then hightailed it to Cascade, where I enlisted the aid of our good friend, Simon Banks." His grin widened. "And here I am!" 

"And here you are," Jim echoed. "Thank God." 

"I thought you were going to kill me." 

"I did too." 

"Jim, man, we need to hide." 

"Yeah, I know. I'm surprised you made it cross country without being found. If these are the same people who pulled my strings, I'm amazed you're still alive." 

Blair's face paled. "What are we going to do?"

Jim turned his face away. "I would ask you to go with me, but..." He shrugged. 

"But what? You're not leaving me now! Not after everything we've been though. We love each other!" 

"You don't know what I've done. What I've become." 

Blair rose. "Look at me." He patiently waited until Jim's eyes met his. "Nothing; nothing you've done changes my feelings for you. Whatever it is, you did under duress. You were brainwashed! You aren't responsible." 

"Even if I - I did horrible things? Even if I followed orders without bothering to think about them?" 

Blair reached out to take Jim's face between his hands. He saw his own hands trembling with emotion, aided by fatigue and fear, so he closed his eyes tightly for a few moments before opening them. Moving the last few inches, he took the much-loved face in his palms and smiled. "When do we leave?" he asked before leaning forward and placing a single, light kiss in the middle of Jim's forehead. 

Jim's arms circled Blair's waist and he pulled his lover close. "Soon. Now, in fact. It's not safe..." 

"Okay," Blair replied simply. 

Jim looked up. "No questions, Chief?" he asked, squeezing Blair's waist lightly. "Usually you have a hundred, and that's just in the first ten minutes." 

Blair smiled. "No questions, Jim." He snickered. "Except one..." 

"Ha!" Jim chortled. "I knew it! What is it?" 

"Where's the bathroom?" 

Jim finally smiled. 

\-------------------------------------

Blair had flushed the toilet and started to wash his face and hands when the bathroom door flew open. "Jim?"

"We have to go now. I made some calls. We don't have much time." 

Blair didn't ask a single question, but nodded and turned to follow Jim down the hallway into a small bedroom. A single twin-size mattress sat on the floor covered with a sheet and one blanket. There was no pillow. "Geez, Jim. This is worse than prison." 

Jim shrugged and hurried over to the corner where he removed the grate from a floor register vent. He reached in and dragged out a flat, thick parcel about six inches long covered with black plastic. "Get-away funds. Ditch the coat and put this on." 

Blair nodded, yanking off the black leather jacket. He shrugged into the heavy navy pea jacket that was three sizes too big. 

"Don't leave it behind," Jim said when he saw Blair start to drop the jacket onto the floor. "We'll toss it on the way." 

Seeing the fear on Jim's face, Blair didn't have the wherewithal to speak. He numbly followed Jim closely, afraid to be separated by more than few feet. He watched while his partner grabbed another heavy coat and slipped his emergency packet into the pocket, checked his weapon, grabbed an extra clip, and added those to his pocket. Next he yanked on gloves and a knit hat. 

"You have gloves and a hat? It's cold out," Jim mentioned. 

"Yeah. Stole them at the hospital." 

Jim shrugged and nodded. Blair pulled the items from the discarded jacket pocket and slipped them on, then followed Jim out the front door, around the back of the house, and through a gate into an alleyway. Silently the men walked quickly. Jim wrapped gloved fingers around Blair's sleeve and didn't release his hold of the material while he kept his hand pressed into the pocket with the emergency funds and the gun. Blair trotted to keep up with his partner's long stride; Jim's fear spurred him on. 

\-------------------------------------

Fifty minutes later, heaving for breath, Blair stood and watched while Jim pulled the cover off a small cabin cruiser moored to a rather shabby dock. Looking out onto the Potomac River, he shivered. 

"Come on, Chief," Jim called, hopping from the dock into the boat. "Throw off that last line, would you?" 

Blair nodded and did as bid; then he joined his partner in the small boat. "Why a boat?"

"We can get out into international waters. No passports; no questions. Somebody will be waiting, but only for a very small window of time." 

"Oh, good idea." Blair chewed on his lower lip. "Can we make it?" 

"No choice." Jim took out a pocketknife and slit the plastic on the packet he carried. He searched through the interior of a leather case and pulled out a key. Inserting it into the ignition, he fired up the boat and guided it away from the dock. Blair nervously stood closely beside Jim. When Jim looked over at his partner and smiled, Blair tried to return the smile, but failed miserably. Comfortingly, a strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, tugging him closer. He slid his shoulder under his partner's arm and wrapped his own arm around Jim's waist, lacing two fingers through one of his belt loops. 

Jim leaned over slightly and whispered directly into Blair's ear, "Are you sure?" 

"Yes," Blair whispered in return. "God, yes." 

Jim smiled and kissed his temple. "It might not work." 

"Promise me you won't let them take me." Jim turned away and looked out on the horizon. Blair yanked on his belt. "Promise me!" he demanded. "Please, Jim!" 

"Blair, I..." Jim sighed. "I promise." 

"Thank you." Blair shivered, which made Jim squeeze his shoulders. Giving Jim a wan smile, he rested his head against the muscled shoulder and looked out of the windscreen. "How long will it take to reach the ocean?"

"Three, four hours, maybe more. Why don't you sack out for a while?" 

"I'm too nervous. How much time do we have before we lose our ride?" 

"Hard to say. Maybe ten, twelve hours, give or take. With this weather..." Jim grimaced before he met Blair's eyes and said firmly, "Put your life vest on." 

Blair shrugged into one of the orange vests. "You, too," he insisted, holding one of them out for Jim, who took it with a roll of his eyes. "Don't argue with me. Just put it on. It makes me feel better. Just in case..." Blair yawned. 

"You hungry?" 

"Yeah." 

"There are some MREs below." 

"Oh, great. I remember those from one of my expeditions. We had run out of fresh supplies and had to resort to MREs. It's not fair calling them food. Although the beef stew wasn't bad. I didn't like the tuna at all. And the spaghetti was gross." 

"Blair?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You okay?" Jim looked at Blair with concern. "You're definitely rambling. I can tell you're upset." 

"Hey, man. So I'm a bit - apprehensive. I'll be okay. I'm just glad to be here with you." 

"Me, too, Chief." 

"It's a nice night." Blair glanced around, noting the partly cloudy skies. He could see star clusters and a sliver of moon. 

"There's a storm coming." 

"Jim! You can tell? Are your senses working? What's going on?" 

Jim shrugged. "It's been about twelve hours since I took my meds. Usually, the drug starts to wear off about now, and I..." He paused and grimaced, looking away. 

Blair waited but when Jim didn't continue, he asked, "What aren't you telling me?" 

"I can't guarantee that my senses will work properly. Sometimes it takes a couple of days after I come down before I can control them." He sighed. "Sometimes they're kind of wacky and sort of painful." 

"What do you do?" 

"Deal." 

Blair put a hand on Jim's arm. "I'll help you," he offered reassuringly. 

Jim put his hand on top of Blair's. "Thanks, Chief. Now go and find us something to eat." 

"Two MREs coming up." 

\-----------------------------------------

Blair woke suddenly to find a face hovering mere inches from his. "Jim?" he asked, startled. 

"Bl- blair..." 

"What's wrong?" Jim's face was pale and drawn, and his breathing was rapid and shallow. "You're spiking?" 

"Yeah," he whispered, grimacing. "Can't concen..." With a small moan, Jim trembled and wrapped his arms around his chest. 

"Oh, man." Blair hurriedly rose and looked around. They were approaching what looked like the mouth of the harbor. While the water here was relatively calm, the sea beyond the strips of land sheltering the harbor looked rough in the growing dawn. Casting a glance at the sky, he sighed when he saw the rolling clouds and dark horizon. "Shit," he muttered, grabbing the wheel of the small vessel. He looked worriedly at Jim, who had moved to lay curled on the wet floor of the boat. Blair cursed aloud and yanked the damp blanket from the bench on which he had been sleeping. 

Wrapping the material around Jim's shoulders, he pleaded, "Come on, Jim. Come on." He tried to help Jim from the wet floor and onto the vinyl bench. The dead weight almost caused Blair to fall when the boat lurched into a small wave. "Jim! Please!" 

Jim moaned once and shakily waved a hand. "Go - away." 

"No way, man. We're in this together." Blair snorted with desperate amusement. "Besides, where do you want me to go?" Rubbing his hands on Jim's shoulders, he spoke soothingly, "Concentrate, Jim. You can do it. Take deep breaths in and out. We're going to do this together, okay? Breathe in. Now hold it for a count of three, two, one. Now out. Hold, three, two, one. Again..." Blair kept up his ministrations until Jim shuddered one final time and nodded slowly. 

"I'm - better." Slowly pushing himself into a sitting position, Jim grimaced at his wet clothes. "We need to hurry," he said after glancing at his watch. "We don't have much time..." Pushing himself up, Jim pushed on the throttle and headed out into open water. 

"Jim, man. It doesn't look too friendly out there." 

Over the sound of the growing wind, Jim cast Blair a cold smile. "It's not. Hang on!" 

Blair shivered. 

\----------------------------------------

Two hours later, Blair was extremely sorry he had bothered to eat anything earlier. His stomach lurched and he threw up, downwind thankfully. Jim gave him a sympathetic look but never let go of his grip of the wheel. Jim kept glancing behind them until Blair was not only sick to his stomach but sick with fear. As much as Jim said his senses were off-line, Blair knew that he must have some residual senses functioning. He didn't need Jim to tell him that they were being followed. 

Blair huddled deeper into his coat and allowed himself to wallow in his misery. He was lost in his unhappiness when an exceedingly bright light blinded him. He fearfully glanced around and saw it. A Coast Guard cutter a couple of hundred yards away. He watched with wide eyes as the boat disappeared behind a wave only to reappear on the crest of the next one. The light once again hit the small craft and the sound of a voice over a bullhorn rang in his ears. 

"This is the US Coast Guard Cutter Hawser. Cut your engines and prepare to come about! You will be -" 

Sound was cut off as a large wave washed against the cutter. It disappeared for a few moments before it came back into view, even closer this time. The searchlight took a short amount of time to find the small craft in which the runaways were huddled. Blair stared into Jim's face. Jim remained still until the light once again moved away when the cutter disappeared behind the next swell. When darkness returned, Jim grabbed both of Blair's arms and hauled him to his feet. 

"Do you trust me?" Jim shouted, lips close to Blair's ear. He nodded without hesitation. Jim almost smiled. "Take this!" He thrust a flare gun into Blair's chest. With cold fingers, he shoved the gun into the middle of his coat and under his life jacket, then he tightened the cord. He never asked what was going to happen when Jim tied a piece of rope around his waist, at the end of which was a bright red lifeguard rescue tube made of foam about three feet long and covered by waterproof vinyl. Blair started to shake even harder and it was only moments before Jim gave him a shaky smile, a quick kiss and shouted, "As far away from the boat as you can! Understand?" He nodded yet again. "Jump!" 

Blair paled, and his stomach lurched. He nodded, not bothering to even think about the possible consequences. Shaking from head to toe, he turned and leapt overboard. 

\----------------------------------

Blair kicked away from the bobbing craft as hard as he could. The waves effortlessly pushed him where they wished in spite of his determination to move away as Jim had ordered. For one moment, he thought he would be smashed back into the hull of the bobbing motorboat when, in the next second, he was yanked far away from it. He coughed and choked on the water as it smacked into his face no matter how hard he tried to keep his mouth closed. The salt stung his eyes. Floundering around, he felt the drag of the rope around his waist so he pulled on it until the buoy hit him in the chest. Then he wrapped his arms around the buoyant item and used it to help propel himself away. Finally, after a long couple of minutes, Blair turned and searched for the craft. Unable to see the boat in the driving rain, he started to panic. 

"Jim! Jim!" he cried. "Jim!" He turned several times, searching frantically for the boat when an explosion lit the night sky. "Jim!" Blair screamed. "Oh, God. Oh, God," he whispered endlessly. "Jimjimjim." Salt water smashed into his face and he sputtered, coughing and choking. Tears mixed with the water and he started to sob. This was too much. To have come this far only to have Jim snatched away from him. "Jimjimmmmm." 

The deep voice right behind him made him start. "Right here, Chief!" 

Turning with difficulty, his eyes frantically searched for his partner. "Jim!" Blair screamed. A strong hand grabbed his life vest and he was pulled close enough so that even in the dim storm-darkened light he could finally see his partner. Even better, he could feel Jim holding onto him. "What happened?" 

"Explosion!" Jim shouted, prying the small buoy from Blair's cold fingers and wrapping the length of rope around his own waist until they were anchored together. He then pushed the buoy back into Blair's arms. 

"They blew up the boat?" 

"No. I did! I made them think we're dead!" 

Blair coughed again when another wave washed over them. Jim hauled him by the back of his jacket and flipped him over, facing upward until he managed to catch his breath. 

"You okay?" Jim shouted. 

"No!" Blair responded. 

Pulling Blair close by the short length of rope between them, Jim latched onto his arm and shouted, "Kick!" Together, they kicked away with all their strength. 

\--------------------------------------

Exhausted, unaware of the time that had lapsed, Blair felt himself blacking out from cold and fatigue. 

"Chief!" Hands patted his cheeks, stinging the cold flesh, making Blair's eyes fly open. "Don't!" Jim ordered. 

Blair's teeth chattered; he tried to nod. "Flare gun?" Jim asked. He stared into Jim's cold face; his lips were blue and trembled. Nodding numbly, Blair forced his hand to search for the gun that he had shoved under his jacket. It seemed to take forever before his fingers found the cold steel, but try as he might, the fingers refused to clench around the metal. Gathering up whatever reserve he could muster, he mentally saw himself remove the gun from his vest and hand it to Jim. He closed his eyes and grimaced. Finally, his fingers responded and he dragged the gun out. Afraid he would drop the item, he painfully clenched the metal in his hand. Only when Jim began to pry his fingers away, did he release his hold. "Good!" Jim shouted, giving him a shaky smile. In the dim light, Blair could tell that his eyes, however, were warm and loving. Momentarily he drank in the love reflected there, letting it warm his heart before the cold, seething ocean yanked at his legs, reminding him of his predicament. 

Blair watched dazedly while Jim raised his arm, considered a moment while searching the horizon, aimed, and then fired. The bright red rocket shot into the sky and exploded at the top of its arc before the residual material fluttered down into the sea like the tail of a dying firework. He let out a small moan and felt himself slip away. 

\-----------------------------------

"... hear me? Come on, young fella. Drink this..." Blair felt rough cloth rubbing his cold flesh. Strange hands touched his face, patting the frigid skin while the cloth continued its journey down his torso, across his thighs, knees and down his legs, almost harshly massaging warmth back into the tingling limbs. Dazed and confused, his mind refused to cooperate. He swallowed the warm liquid automatically but after a few gulps, he tried to breathe, setting off a spasm of coughing. Hands leaned him forward and rubbed his back while a strong arm across his chest kept him from falling forward. When the coughing passed, he was again held in sturdy arms and the voice ordered, "Drink again. Slowly..." Blair shivered, his teeth clattering against the rim of the cup. After taking in a few small sips, he was told, "Good, good." Gently he was lowered down into a mound of warm blankets. 

Moaning softly, Blair swallowed and tried to speak. "J… jim?" The hands continued their massage, moving the cloth to his arms and rubbing for several minutes until his skin was dry and tingling; then heavy, warm blankets covered him to his chin. Cocooned, he struggled to stay awake. "Jim?" he whispered, his eyes heavy. 

"He is alive," the accented voice said. 

"Jim? Alive? Where...?" Blair forced his eyes open, frantically searching for his lover. "Jim?" 

Extremely lethargic and unable to move to even glance about, the helpful hands carefully turned his head and when Blair's eyes finally focused, he saw his partner lying on the cot next to him. Jim's eyes were closed and his face was pale and drawn, but when he closely watched Jim's chest, he saw the blankets rise and fall. He closed his own eyes with a sigh of relief and finally allowed himself relax. He was asleep in seconds. 

\--------------------------------------------

"Please, you must come. Wake up. There is great need." 

Blair opened heavy lids. He still felt incredibly lethargic and his head was muddled. His body was one huge ache and he felt terribly thirsty and ravenous. "Wha...? Who... are you?" 

"It is I, Crewman Maon Tavares. I am the medic on this vessel." A strong, deeply-lined Peruvian face stared down into Blair's. "Your companion is very ill. You must wake up." 

Blair struggled to rise. Tavares grabbed his arm and helped him to a sitting position. He waved a hand toward the hatch that led to a hallway. 

"He woke a short while ago. He started to have... tremors and then he began to shake uncontrollably. I tried to touch him, but he screamed and fell to the floor, crying out about the lights, the sounds... When I summoned assistance, it took many hands to lift him from the floor. Their hands caused pain and their voices made him curl up and cover his ears." 

"Where is he?" Blair demanded, rising too quickly. He swayed on his feet before Tavares' hand caught his elbow. 

"You have been unconscious for eighteen hours. Your body needs some time to recover, but I do not think he can wait for you any longer." 

"Where is he?" Blair cried. Yanking his arm from Tavares' hand, he took several shaky steps. "Clothes?" 

"I thought it best to move Enqueri to... more comfortable quarters." Tavares said, holding out a pair of pants and a long-sleeved shirt. "These are from one of the crew." 

Blair took the clothes from his hand. "Yeah... Okay, thanks." He quickly pulled on the pants and shirt, and then slipped his feet into a pair of shoes that Tavares produced. Suddenly he stopped short and stared into Tavares' eyes. "Enqueri?" 

"I am Chopec," the man said firmly, as if it explained it all. 

Blair's eyes widened. "You knew Jim - Enqueri when he was in the jungle?" 

"Yes. Many years ago, he was the tribe Sentinel. Incacha, our Shaman, guided this man. But now he has another." Tavares looked into Blair's eyes and said adamantly, "He needs his Guide. His bond must be strengthened." 

"Take me to him." 

"This way." 

\------------------------------------

The cabin was small and dark, but warm and not uncomfortably furnished. A single small bulb burned in an alcove, casting a soft light through the enclosure. Even from here, Blair could see that Jim lay curled into a tight fetal position on the bunk. Tavares had been mindful of the Sentinel's position with the tribe and had given him what were probably the best accommodations on the cargo vessel, and had kept his dignity intact by covering his naked body with a light, clean blanket. Blair approached him carefully and quietly, and fell to his knees beside the bunk. 

"Jim?" Blair whispered, barely touching the soft hair of Jim's head. "It's Blair. Can you hear me?" When Jim failed to respond, Blair cautiously put a hand under his cheek and turned his face so that he could look into his eyes, which were opened wide and unfocused. "Oh, shit. Jim, man. Come on. Don't do this. Not now. Not after we're finally safe. Jim, please!" Blair begged. He petted Jim's face and neck, trailing his hand under the blanket. The unresponsive flesh, cold and clammy, made him shiver. "You're so cold!" 

Rising, Blair quickly stripped off his shirt and kicked off the shoes before climbing out of the pants. He lifted the thin blanket and his eyes searched Jim's body while his hands touched his skin. Relieved that he saw no outward signs of injury, Blair spoke in a low, soothing voice. "Jim, please, please hear me." He closed his eyes for a moment when a wave of dizziness washed over him. Waiting for it to pass, it was a few moments before he could open them without feeling faint. He sighed with frustration at his weakness. 

"God, Jim..." With tender hands, he rearranged Jim's limp body until he was lying on his side facing the wall. Before climbing into the bed, Blair located two more blankets in the room's small closet and after adding them to bed clothes, he slipped in next to his lover and after covering them both with the heavy blankets, he wrapped a trembling arm around Jim's waist. He pressed his entire length along Jim's back and rested his cheek against the back of his shoulders. 

Splaying his hand over Jim's heart, he spoke. "Jim, I love you so much! I know what's wrong. When you were on line in Peru, you had Incacha to guide you, to help you. Then when you came on line in Cascade, it was only a couple of days before you found me." Blair snickered softly. "Well, I guess I found you." Kissing the cool flesh under his face, he smiled against the skin. "So when those idiots kidnapped you, they knew you would need… something to help you control your senses. Hey, man, I know it sucks, but I didn't write the rules. Burton said a Sentinel needs a partner along, someone to watch his back. When you didn't have me or Incacha, they substituted with those drugs." Blair's hand rubbed Jim's chest. 

"Don't bitch at me. I'm doing the best I can here! Those drugs... Well, besides everything else, I think you're in withdrawal. But you have me again, Jim. I'm here. I love you. So just come back from wherever you are and we'll talk about it. Okay?" Blair rubbed his bristly cheek against Jim's soft skin. "Please, Jim, please," he whispered huskily, kissing his lover's shoulder blade and upper arm. He raised himself up on his hand and rained kisses down Jim's upper arm and the back of his shoulder before moving to his neck. 

Lips pressed against Jim's ear, Blair kissed the hard ridge of it before gently mouthing the rim. He breathed warm air into the canal and when his lover's body shuddered, he held his breath. Jim's eyes flickered once and then he blinked before the lids closed. "Yes! Oh, man. Yes!" Blair kissed the side of Jim's face and neck before carefully rolling him to his back. His lips blazed a trail across the cool forehead and down his nose. His tongue licked the dry lips before he pressed his own mouth against his lover's. 

Jim moaned and shuddered. He breathed in and out harshly through his nose while Blair fused their mouths together. When Jim's mouth fell open, he never hesitated. He dove into the warm recesses, giving Jim something on which to focus, to settle his senses. Trembling arms moved to enfold Blair's shoulders tightly. Blair's hand pressed against the side of Jim's face while his tongue thoroughly explored the readily opened mouth. 

Blair pulled back a fraction to give them both a chance to breathe before he pressed his mouth once again, open and wet, over Jim's. His lover's tongue came to life, thrusting deep into his mouth, making him moan deeply. Hands skittered down Blair's back until they rested against the firm globes of his ass and dug almost painfully into the rounded flesh. 

Finally dragging his mouth away from his lover's, Blair looked down into Jim's face. "Open your eyes," he ordered softly. "Look at me." 

"No," was Jim's breathy reply before he let out a harsh sob. "No!"

"Jim... It's okay. I'm here. Look at me. I'm here." 

Jim still kept his eyes tightly closed. "No... I'll... look and you'll be gone. It's too good. You're... They never stay..." 

"Jim, I'm here. I'm here for you," Blair said softly, gently kissing his lover's warm, soft lips. Jim's eyes remained closed but his hand moved to take Blair's, where he directed it to touch his swollen cock. "You want this. Tell me you want this." 

"Please..." Jim whispered. "I want this. I want you." 

Stroking the hard column, Blair whispered lovingly, "Never leaving you. Never. Love you. Want you. Need you." When Jim's body trembled and the shaft in his hand thickened even more, he pressed warm lips to Jim's ear. "Come for me, and only me. I will protect you. God, Jim... You are mine, Sentinel." 

With a cry, Jim thrust up his hips and spilled his seed over Blair's hand. Blair smiled and pumped the throbbing flesh until Jim was limp and sated. Barely aware of his own orgasm, Blair watched his lover's face carefully before he once again said, "Open your eyes, my love." 

Jim's lids fluttered before they opened. When their eyes met, Blair smiled. Jim returned the warm smile with a trembling smile of his own. "Blair." With the single word, he conveyed his love and commitment to his partner and without another word, they sealed their lives together with their mouths and lips and tongues. 

Feeling Jim's energy quickly fading, Blair pulled back and looked down into his lover's face. With a gentle smile, he leaned down, kissing away the tear that trickled from the corner of Jim's eye. "Jim," he whispered tenderly, "shhh. It's okay. Just sleep. I'll watch over you." Jim lay trembling in his strong arms while Blair's voice soothed his lover to sleep, and after one more touch of the beloved face, after one more small kiss to the slack lips, he joined his lover in rest. 

\------------------------------------

Working for passage, the weeks passed all too quickly for the reunited couple. When the cargo ship steamed into the Port of Callao, Blair was instantly wary of leaving the ship to enter the bustling port city. 

"Chief, it will be okay. Tavares will meet us in Lima. I've given him enough cash to get us supplied for a trek into the jungle. We'll be all right. I'll protect you." 

Blair paced the eight steps from one wall to the other in their small cabin. "It's not you, Jim," he said earnestly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "It's just..." 

"What?" Jim asked gently when Blair's words failed. "Can you tell me?" 

"No. Yes. I don't know!" Blair pressed against the lean work-hardened body and shivered. "I'm sorry! I just have this… feeling!" 

"Yeah, I know," Jim said soothingly, holding his lover close. "But what choice do we have?" 

Blair looked into Jim's loving face and gave a lopsided smile. "We could sail away. Never get off this ship." After he snorted at his own silliness, he said softly, "No choice at all." Huffing out a shaky breath, he added, "Remember your promise." 

Jim closed his eyes tightly. "Please, Blair... How could I forget?" he retorted. 

"Sorry." Leaning into Jim's embrace, Blair sighed. "Let's do it." 

Jim nodded. "It's dark out. It's now or never." 

Blair shivered. "I love you." 

"Back at you, Chief," Jim replied, placing a loud, wet kiss on Blair's forehead that made him chuckle. 

Silently, Jim led the way through the bowels of the ship to the gangplank that had been lowered earlier in the day for the rest of the work crew to disembark. He stood at the open hatchway and made a careful sweep of the dock area. It was the middle of the night and other than a few security guards guarding other ships and cargo on the docks, everything was quiet.

"We have about five miles to the bus terminal, then a two hour ride to meet up with Tavares," Jim reminded Blair, who nodded mutely. "Stay close." Again, Blair nodded but didn't speak. He did, however, slip two fingers through one of the belt loops on the back of Jim's jeans. "Remember Spanish only and act like you belong. Okay, Chief?" 

"Yes." 

"Good." Jim started down the gang plank, senses on alert. They walked quietly across the wide expanse of dock and down past several warehouses before turning into the maze of streets surrounding the area. With his senses wide open for danger, Jim stopped abruptly, causing Blair to bump into him. 

"Jim?" Blair whispered, putting a hand on Jim's upper arm. 

"It's too much..." 

"Geez, Jim, dial back! Just use hearing for now. The smell around here will kill you!" 

Jim snorted with amusement. "I knew there was some reason I kept you around." 

Blair gave Jim a small push in the center of his back. "Move it. I don't like it here." 

Jim glanced around quickly before he began to walk. Taking his Guide's advice, he dialed back on everything but hearing. He catalogued and dismissed many sounds. Cats prowling; a street fight several blocks over; loud music from a cantina; the faraway sound of a fire siren. 

"Almost there," Jim said under his breath. "Couple more blocks-" He abruptly stepped back when a small motorcycle roared out of the night and almost ran into him. 

Blair stumbled backward, shouting, "Jim!" 

Jim regained his balance and turned to his partner. "Chief? You okay?" 

"Yeah, yeah," Blair griped, wiping his hands together. He slipped his hand into Jim's outstretched one. "Thanks. Where in the hell did he come from? You didn't hear him?" 

"Sorry, Blair," Jim answered, rubbing his forehead. "I'm kind of tired." 

"We're almost there. Dial back, man. You've had your hearing working full steam for a couple of hours now." 

"Must be getting old," he muttered. "I shouldn't wear out so quickly." 

Blair smiled. "You're not Superman, even though you like to think you are." 

"Smart ass," Jim groused, making Blair smile. "Come on," he said, looking around. "I don't like standing in one place too long." 

Blair nodded and together they crossed the small alleyway and turned down another. They walked quickly for a short distance when a very large black dog suddenly leaped over a broken fence and approached the duo, growling and snapping. Jim started, pushing Blair behind him. Blair latched both hands onto Jim's belt and tried to pull him out of the path of the dog's jaws, then Jim lurched backward and fell into him, sending them both crashing to the ground. 

Blair lay stunned under his lover's weight for a moment before he shook Jim's arm. "Jim!" When Jim failed to respond, Blair felt a cold stab of fear run through his body. He pushed Jim, who limply rolled aside. Grabbing his shoulder, he pulled his unresponsive partner to his back. "Oh, fuck," he cried, seeing the tranquilizer dart sticking from the center of Jim's chest. Before he had a chance to think about moving, he was hit in the center of his back. Crying out, he fell forward. It took only seconds for the drug to take effect; he was unconscious before he took another breath. 

\------------------------------------

The first voice Blair recognized made him want to cry. 

"Blair, sweetie, do you know how big the mess is you've gotten yourself into now?" Naomi's voice said testily.

Blair's eyes fluttered open. Naomi stood beside his bed yet again. It was like a replay of a movie that he hated. He glared at her balefully. 

"I tried to help you. I did everything I could, but now... Well, it's out of my hands. I played my last card but you threw my efforts in my face. And now this is what you get; these are the fruits of your actions. I'm sorry, sweetie." Naomi sighed sadly and wiped her eyes. 

It took a few minutes for Blair to take stock of his surroundings, and when he did, he was even more terrified than he ever thought he would be. He was in a small, dingy room, and Naomi wasn't the only person present -- unfortunately. He definitely had gone from bad to worse regarding his means of incarceration. The facility from which he had escaped in Portland was a five-star establishment, he figured; this one rated two stars. When Blair saw his nemesis, Dr. Tolstoy, his estimations dropped the rating from two stars to one. 

"Leave me alone!" Blair shouted. 

Dr. Tolstoy shrugged. "Make any noise you wish, Mr. Sandburg. It only aids our cause." 

Blair yanked on the restraints. His arms and legs were securely fastened to the small bed. In addition, a wide strap around his upper chest and another across his hips kept him tethered without much room for movement. 

"Get away from me! Take this out!" Blair screamed, glancing down at his arm, likewise strapped to a wide board with an IV line snaking into his vein. 

"Mr. Sandburg, your cooperation is not required." 

Blair's eyes widened with fear when he further examined his body. He was naked, covered with a single thin sheet. And he was catheterized. Panic set in. Whatever they had in mind was going to take a considerable length of time and be very, very uncomfortable. He frantically struggled against the bonds. "Mom! Mom, please! Where's Jim? Mom!" 

"When you… removed yourself from your mother's care, you relinquished your rights to her protection. According to the terms of the contract, when your mother failed in her duties, you became my responsibility." 

"No! She wouldn't! She won't let you hurt me!" Blair cried out, "Mom, please!" 

Naomi sighed sadly again and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. 

Blair felt his own eyes fill. "Mom, please... Please... Don't let them do this!" 

Tolstoy approached the bed, syringe in hand. Naomi let out a loud sob. "Frederick, just because you now have control, I don't have to watch!" With a final cry, she fled the room. 

"Suit yourself, Naomi," Tolstoy said to the retreating woman. He smiled when the door slammed before turning his attentions back to Blair. He carefully filled the hypodermic with a green-colored liquid before he sat the item back onto the small tray beside the bed. He looked down into Blair's face with a pleasant expression and said, "You're mine now. After all this time..." He smiled coldly. Blair frantically tried to blink away the wetness blurring his eyes. He saw Tolstoy's hands moving toward him and he turned his head away. 

"Nonono!" he whispered plaintively. 

"Protest all you want. Your begging will be most effective."

Blair turned back to glare at Tolstoy, who laughed before he went to the door and called into the hallway, "Bring him in." 

Blair's heart raced when two large men led Jim into the room. When their eyes met, he sobbed, "Jim!" 

"Blair!" Jim tried to move forward, but Tolstoy held up a hand. 

"Close enough!" 

One of the guards yanked on Jim's arms, which were handcuffed behind his back. The other put a hand across Jim's chest. Tolstoy moved quickly. He expertly slipped the needle into the IV port and turned to Jim. 

"Mr. Ellison, let me tell you how this is going to work." 

Jim stopped short on seeing the needle in the IV line. Blair immediately called, "Don't do it, Jim. Let them kill me! You promised! Remember! Don't cooperate!" 

Tolstoy smiled coldly. "I have no intention of killing you, Mr. Sandburg. In fact, quite the opposite. I intend on keeping you alive for a very long time." He smiled again and depressed the plunger on the needle, forcing the green liquid into the line. 

"No!" Jim shouted, struggling against the hands that held him back. "What did you do? What are you giving him? Blair!" 

Blair's eyes were wide and frightened as he watched the green liquid mingle with the clear IV fluid. 

"Do you know what curare is, Mr. Ellison? Mr. Sandburg knows, I'm sure. His field is anthropology, and I'm sure he's studied such primitive concoctions in his studies. Mr. Sandburg, with your few remaining moments of mobility, why don't you tell us what the properties of curare are?" 

Blair shuddered. "I- It's-"

"Stop it!" Jim shouted. "Leave him alone!" 

Blair tensed, then he felt it. The paralysis started in his arm. He could feel it hitting each part of his body, a slow creep. His limbs; his torso, even his face. It wasn't long before he couldn't move even a finger, but he could feel everything. He felt his heart beating; he actually felt his lungs become paralyzed. He was fully awake, fully conscious of each thing. His mind was alert and aware. His inner self screamed. His lungs stopped pumping and he started to suffocate. Unable to protest, unable to even blink, he began to die. And the entire time the paralysis crept along his body, he heard every word Tolstoy said: 

"Mr. Sandburg has just a few minutes before he suffocates to death, Mr. Ellison. But I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I'm not going to let him die. I'm going to leave him in this condition, but I'm going to intubate him. I will administer just enough drug each and every day so that he lives just like this. Full and total paralysis; fully conscious, fully aware, but unable to communicate in any way. Life support will keep his body alive for year after year after year." Tolstoy chuckled evilly. "An empty shell with an active mind. Did I mention this particular curare derivative is one that I perfected myself? It not only keeps the patient alive, it actually stimulates the brain into being even more alert." The doctor patted Blair's head. "Oh, and the antidote is quite interesting, and very effective - when administered properly." Tolstoy looked coldly at Ellison. "Now will you cooperate?" 

Blair had never felt such total and utter panic before. He felt himself start to grey out. With a burst of hope, he thought that maybe Tolstoy had miscalculated and that he would die after all. Then Jim could break free; escape and live. But then he felt the mask clamped over his face. He felt the air being pushed into his lungs as Tolstoy administered artificial respiration. He felt his heart still beating; and finally, he felt the paralysis slowly retreat. After many panic-filled minutes, his lungs took in a single independent breath, paused, then another, then another, until he was breathing unassisted. When the mask was finally pulled away, Blair sobbed and started to hyperventilate in his terror. 

"Mr. Sandburg, you must calm yourself. I've given you the antidote. The paralysis is gone and your ability to breath unassisted is restored. It is only your distress that is making it difficult for you to breath." A nasal cannula replaced the face mask and oxygen flowed into Blair's starving lungs. He breathed deeply and raggedly for several minutes before his body started to settle down. 

"You fucking bastard!" Jim cried, frantically fighting to get away from his captors. "Blair... Please, Blair... I'm so sorry!" 

Tolstoy approached Jim until they stood, face to face. "Do you understand? You will do what I order, or he will live like that for thirty years! Do you understand? I will not kill him! I will do everything I can to make him live a long and useless life trapped inside his own body! Is that what you want for him? Think about it!" 

Jim slumped in his captors' hands, nodding. 

Tolstoy grabbed Jim's hair and yanked his face to the side, looking into his eyes. "Do you understand?" he said coldly, turning Jim's face so that he could see Blair; could meet his eyes. 

"Yes." 

"Do you agree to follow my orders explicitly?" 

"Yes, please... How...?" Jim cleared his throat. "I need proof. Every week. Proof he's not being... hurt. He needs to be allowed to... read and function and have books..." 

"I assure you he will be kept in a secure place, but he will be allowed freedom to exercise his body and mind. No harm will come to him as long as you perform adequately. He is our insurance of your complete and utter cooperation. If you fail, he will not be killed. He will survive." 

"Weekly reports! In real time, so I can verify them!"

"Agreed." 

"And I get to talk to him every week! I need to know he's okay." 

Tolstoy considered for a moment before he nodded. "Two minutes each week." 

"Done, you fucking prick," Jim agreed. 

"And you will be fitted with a subcutaneous GPS device. You will be monitored constantly, and should you find yourself within a five mile radius of Mr. Sandburg, the drug will be administered immediately." 

"That's not fair! How will I know where he is?" 

Tolstoy shrugged. "I guess you'd better be extremely careful in your movements, then." 

Jim sighed deeply. "I agree," he ground out harshly. "And if I find out you've hurt him, you'll regret the day you were born." 

"Strong words from a man whose position holds no strength." 

Blair listened and watched in horror. This was his life now? "Jim, please... No! No, you promised!" 

"Blair... What can I do? I can't let them torture you!" 

"Kill me now, you bastards!" Blair cried, tears coursing down his face. "Either let me go or kill me now! You're a bunch of fucking cowards! " 

Tolstoy laughed. 

\----------------------------------------- 

Blair had no idea of the time that had passed. The room was semi-dark and there were no sounds from the hallway outside his room that he could hear. He was given no food; the catheter kept his bladder empty. The IV bag was changed several times, but no one to whom Blair could beg for escape came into his prison. He didn't see Naomi again. Only Tolstoy himself did the honors. Blair turned his face away and ignored the man when he entered the room. Tolstoy was quite talkative, though. 

"Ellison is out on his first mission. You'd be proud of him. He's a killing machine. No conscience; no regrets. I didn't think that you would be much of an incentive for him, but I admit I was wrong." Tolstoy sat on the side of Blair's bed. "Do you know what he's doing right now? He's killing an Arab sheik who thinks he can influence world market oil prices. The man just happened to be in Lima this weekend. How convenient for us!" Blair turned his face toward Tolstoy and glared. "What? Us? Never you mind about that. You don't need to know. But..." He leaned down and conspiratorially said, "I tossed in the sheik's two wives and seven children. Ellison will have to kill them all, or you're - vegged out!" Tolstoy rose and chuckled. "Vegged out. Not a very scientific term, but I'm sure you understand." He fiddled around on the medical table beside Blair's bed for a few moments, returning to stand over him with a freshly filled hypodermic. He seated the needle into the IV port and his finger toyed with the plunger. The green fluid crept closer to the line. The man looked into Blair's wide eyes and laughed. "Just in case. Ellison might run and you'll be left holding the bag, so to speak." 

Blair started to shake and he felt his body react in panic. He trembled uncontrollably; his respiration was rapid and shallow; he broke out in a cold sweat while his eyes focused intently on the needle's point. He had never felt anything so horrible as the total paralysis and the inability to breathe. When the air had been forcibly pushed into his lungs, he felt such gratitude to be allowed to live. He hated himself for his momentary weakness. He hated his mother. He especially hated Tolstoy. He desperately prayed to die. He tried to speak, but his mouth only moved without any sounds emerging. He was pathetic, he knew. He couldn't even beg for his own life. 

"Did you want anything?" Tolstoy asked politely before he reached into his jacket pocket. He extracted a small pager, which vibrated in his hand. He turned away, leaving the needle still inserted in the IV port. At the door, he smiled and said, "I'll be back," in a horrible Schwarzenegger imitation. 

When the door closed, Blair bit his lip and trembled. The tears dripped from the corners of his eyes and ran down the sides of his face, his blurry vision entirely focused on the needle lurking just inches away. 

\------------------------------------------

Fitfully dozing, when the hand clamped over Blair's mouth, he let out a startled cry. The muffled sound echoed in the small room. 

"Blair! It's Jim!" 

Nodding, eyes wide, Blair gasped when he pulled his hand away, "Jim? Oh, God... Oh, God. How...?"

"We're getting out of here." Nodding mutely, Blair yanked at the restraints. "Calm down and let me get you loose!" 

Shaking, Blair whispered, "Jimjimmm, please... The IV, please..." Jim saw the hypodermic and yanked it out of the port. Leaning over his lover, he gently extracted the needle from the vein in Blair's arm. He rose and turned, finding the alcohol swabs and he tore one open with his teeth. 

"Forget that! Get me the fuck out of here!" 

"It will only take a second." Jim swabbed the site quickly and just as quickly slapped an adhesive bandage over the entry point. "Infections," he stated. 

Blair almost cried at Jim's concern. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, man." 

Jim's eyes met Blair's and he smiled. "I love you." 

"Me, too." 

Quickly, Jim's fingers unbuckled the wrist and leg restraints on Blair's left before he skirted the bed to start on the right. He stopped, hands in mid-air. 

"Jim?" 

"Somebody's coming..." Jim looked frantically around for a weapon before he saw the hypo with the curare derivative that he had just dropped onto the tray. His eyes focused briefly on the green liquid before he yanked his vision back, raced around the bed and grabbed the syringe. Clenching it in his fist, thumb ready to depress the cylinder, he pressed himself against the wall next to the door. When the door opened, and Tolstoy walked through, Jim moved like a giant cat stalking its prey.

Blair watched, awe-struck, as Jim stealthily walked behind Tolstoy who approached Blair's bedside with a cold smile on his face. When Tolstoy stopped and opened his mouth to speak, Jim struck. He wrapped an arm around Tolstoy's throat and jammed the needle deep into his neck. He never hesitated, pressing the plunger and releasing the liquid directly into the man's body. With a disgusted grunt, he released Tolstoy, who dropped to the floor like a stone. 

"See how you like it, you animal," Jim growled, dropping the syringe onto the floor where it landed directly in Tolstoy's line of vision. Now the doctor had no doubt exactly what Jim had injected into his veins. He never had time to even moan, and Jim didn't bother to give him another glance. He raced around to Blair's side, and undid the last of the restraints. "Fuck, fuck..." he muttered angrily, gently extracting the catheter from Blair's penis. "Sorry, Chief. I'm sorry." 

"No problem," Blair said tensely, glad when the item was gone from his body. 

"Can you walk?" 

"Of course," Blair answered firmly. "Jim, man, I'm naked here." He carefully rose from the bed and stood beside it, leaning on the mattress with one hand until he regained his equilibrium, his eyes averted from the body lying at his feet. He knew if he looked down, he'd see the panic in those widely-opened eyes. The momentary stab of guilt was quickly squelched and he marveled briefly at how cold and cruel he really could be if need arose. 

Jim nodded absentmindedly, listening once again. "Sorry, Blair..." Jim clamped a hand under Blair's elbow. 

"Hey, don't worry about it," he replied, yanking the sheet from the bed and wrapping it around his body. "With Jim helping him, he shakily walked toward the door, legs wobbling. "Give me a sec, Jim. I'm feeling kind of -" 

From behind, Jim's hand covered his mouth once again. When Blair leaned back onto Jim's chest, his arm automatically wrapped around Blair's waist. He held his partner close and listened while Blair remained very still. "Naomi," Jim growled, moving his hand to splay across his lover's naked shoulder where the hand mindlessly rubbed against the skin. 

"What are we going to do?" Blair asked, starting to shake with fatigue and fear. "She won't hurt me. At least, I don't think she would. Oh, hell, man. I don't know!" he whispered unhappily. 

Quickly, Jim wrapped an arm around his waist and clamped his hand under his arm. He took a step backwards, pulling Blair with him. "It will be okay." Quietly the door opened and a dark head appeared. 

"No, it won't -"

"Tavares!" Jim called. 

"Hurry. The way is clear - for now." Tavares stepped back, his hand wrapped around the arm of Naomi Sandburg. He pushed her ahead of him while Jim followed, Blair securely held in his arms. 

Blair's eyes drilled into the back of Naomi's head, but she never acknowledged him, and he didn't have time to question her presence. As they made their way out of what looked to be a small warehouse, they passed several dead bodies. Guards, apparently, and every one of them had a blow dart or arrow protruding from their bodies. When Blair swallowed noisily, Jim squeezed his waist reassuringly. 

"You okay?" 

Blair mutely nodded. 

"Don't look." 

"No," he answered. "I want to look. I'm glad they're dead." He briefly gazed over at Jim, who gave him a comforting smile and a nod. "I'm okay." 

Stumbling into the night with Jim holding him upright, Blair bit his lip. He wouldn't fall. He wouldn't fall. "I won't fall... I won't fall..." he muttered under his breath, his bare footsteps echoing his words. 

"The van is behind those trees," Tavares said, pointing to a small grove several hundred yards away. He pulled on Naomi's arm, urging her to walk faster and the distance between the pairs started to widen. "Hurry!" he called over his shoulder. 

"Blair, I know you hate this, but..." 

"No... Jim, I hate this!" he cried, letting out a small "umph" when Jim dropped to his knees, wrapped an arm around Blair's thighs and rose with him flung across his shoulder. Blair's hands found Jim's belt and he held on while Jim almost trotted the last hundred yards. "Damn it anyway," he groused. "It's only because I'm barefoot that I'm letting you do this, Ellison," he complained further. 

"I know, Chief. I know." 

\-------------------------------------

Gently, Jim lowered Blair through the van's back door that Tavares had opened. "Scoot over, Chief." 

Tavares cranked the engine while Naomi climbed into the front passenger seat. "Head towards Lima and then take the Pan American Highway," Naomi directed. 

"Mom?" Blair asked, surprised that Naomi was giving orders. "What's going on?"

Jim rummaged through a large duffel in the back of the van, pulling out a shirt, jeans and a pair of hiking boots, along with underwear and socks. He tossed them toward Blair, saying, "Didn't I tell you? Your mother helped us escape. She told Tavares to bring you clothes, so be nice." 

Blair looked shocked as he said, "No, it seems you didn't provide that information until just now." Turning toward the front of the van, he pulled on the shirt. "Mom? Why?"

Naomi turned in the seat. "It's about time I did something for myself after thirty-five years." 

Wiggling into the jeans, Blair was still too surprised to ask many questions. "Thirty-five years?" he echoed. 

"Yes, Blair. I've been in 'the organization' for more than thirty years. Since before you were born, actually. In fact," she said with a small grimace, "having you was the only act of rebellion I've ever committed." She laughed bitterly, adding, "Until now, that is." 

Slipping into the shoes provided, Blair thought for a long moment before he finally asked, "Why?" 

Naomi smiled. "Because I was ordered to… terminate the pregnancy. It didn't fit with policy." 

"But you didn't." 

"Obviously," Naomi retorted with a roll of her eyes. "Seriously, I couldn't do it, so I ran. By the time they found me, it was too late. You were a toddler and I refused to give you up. They threatened to take you away, of course, so I made a deal. I worked for them for the rest of my life and they left you alone. With my previous experience, I was valuable enough by that time to have the nerve to make a deal." Naomi looked out the front windscreen for a moment before she turned back to say, "So until you ran away, they let me have some say in your well-being. Until your one act of rebellion. Like mother, like son." Naomi smiled sadly. 

Blair looked incredulously at his mother. "You mean all these years you've been some sort of," his hand waved through the air, "spy?" 

"Yes, sweetie." 

"I don't believe this. I just fucking don't believe this!" 

"Chief..." Jim said softly. 

Blair glared at Jim. "Don't you dare tell me to settle down!" 

Jim held up both hands in surrender. Blair glared again before he turned his attentions back to his mother. "Tell me." 

"Blair, hon, there's really not much to tell. I did jobs all over the planet -" 

"The retreats?" Blair asked. "The trips to Nepal? All the times you went off for months on end?" 

"Cover."

"But you had me when you were barely twenty years old! When did you start? When you were in high school?" 

"Actually, yes. My parents were… absent most of the time. My father was a long-haul trucker and my mother was usually working two or three jobs. They were good people, but life was hard. I had to fend for myself, so I took advantage of my opportunities. This was the best avenue for me at the time. By the time I realized I was trapped for life, it was too late, so I made the best of it." 

"You didn't kill people, did you? You didn't -" 

"Blair, I'm not telling you or anybody else what I've done for the past thirty-five years. Jim will tell you. Special Forces; covert ops. Nobody talks and lives to tell about it." Naomi's face closed and she crossed her arms. "Sorry, sweetie. You're better off not knowing. It's for your own safety anyway." 

"What a bunch of crap!" 

"I knew you'd hate me when you found out, but it doesn't matter now. It's too late for me, but for you - you and Jim - there's still a chance." 

Blair looked away and asked tensely, "What are you talking about?" 

"You can disappear into the jungle. Don't ever come out. If you do, they'll find you and after everything that's happened, they'll kill you. You have to understand the gravity of the situation!"

"But Tolstoy's dead!" 

Naomi laughed bitterly. "Sweetie, Tolstoy was one of a thousand; a couple of thousand agents across the planet. Their network is like some… giant infectious organism; it's everywhere, into everything. Even I don't have any idea of the scope of the organization." 

"What organization?" Blair cried. "This is way too X-Files for me!" 

"I wouldn't lie to you, Blair," Naomi offered. "There are just some things I can't or won't tell you." 

"Oh, really," Blair answered sarcastically. "You've got to be kidding." 

"Blair, please..." Naomi begged softly. 

"Leave me alone!" He crossed his arms on his chest and turned away. "Just leave me alone." 

"Jim, you talk to him. Make him understand. You know how these things work." 

"Naomi..." Jim rubbed his forehead. "I'm not sure..." 

"Please, Jim. Make him understand that I protected him all of those years, and that I love him with all my heart." 

"Just give him some time." 

"Thank you." 

"Chief?" 

"Not now, Jim. And stop talking about me like I'm not here!" 

"I just wanted you to try and get some rest. You've had a rough time of it. Come on. Lie down and put your head in my lap." 

Blair sighed and nodded. He felt exhausted and having Jim close sounded inviting. He closed the small space between them and without another word, put his head in Jim's lap and closed his eyes. He let out another sad sigh when Jim's warm hand caressed his hair. His own hand found Jim's free one, and he curled their fingers together. In a few minutes, he was asleep. 

\-----------------------------------------

Blair woke when the van hit a bump. 

"Sorry, Chief," Jim said soothingly, rubbing Blair's back. "Go back to sleep. We have a couple more hours." When Blair didn't answer, Jim asked, "You okay?"

"No," Blair replied. "Not really. Having you with me helps." 

"Thanks, partner." 

Blair looked up at Jim. "What will happen to her now?" 

"The Chopec have agreed to allow her to -" 

"Wait. Wait. Allow her?" Sitting up, Blair's look demanded an answer. 

"Chief," Jim said, lowering his voice, "Naomi broke a major… law, for lack of a better word, according to Chopec tradition. She tampered with a Sentinel and his Guide. By rights, she should be put to death for her crime, but the Chopec don't kill women, even guilty women." Jim took Blair's hand. "They've agreed - the Chopec and Naomi - that she'll be placed with a tribe that needs a female worker." 

"A slave?" 

"She won't be abused, but she will be required to work. Besides, I don't think she'd live very long after the organization in which she is involved, finds out what she's done. She'll be safe; it's the best solution..." 

"Jim, that's not -" Blair paused before he added, "I was going to say fair, but as an anthropologist, I know that law is law, especially among tribes. I know that they don't have jails and such, so that it's either banishment, enforced labor, or death." Sighing, Blair closed his eyes. 

"She'll be okay, Chief. She's a strong person..." Jim stroked Blair's furrowed brow. "Just like her son." 

"I think I'll sleep for a while, Jim." 

"Good idea, Blair. You sleep." 

\-----------------------------------------

"You ready, Chief?" Jim asked sympathetically. 

Blair nodded curtly. 

Jim sighed. "Do you want to talk to her before -?"

"No." 

"Blair -" 

"Just drop it!" Blair started off down the path, adjusting the pack that rested on his back. "Just... Never mind." He walked a few feet away from where Jim and Naomi stood before he stopped and with arms crossed, waited for Jim to join him. 

Jim watched for a moment before he glanced at Naomi. Shrugging, he said, "Sorry. He's not thinking clearly. I'll tell him you said good-bye." 

"Thank you, Jim. I appreciate your taking care of him. And… I'm really sorry. I didn't expose you to hurt you personally, but I had to protect Blair." 

Blair heard Naomi's words and he became instantly angry. Turning, he stalked over to where she stood and spat, "Protect me? All you did was lie to me! You have no right to ever expect me to forgive you!" 

Naomi looked into Blair's eyes. "I did what I had to do. I kept you safe. That's all I cared about. I love you, Blair. Please remember that." 

Blair rubbed his eyes before he sighed. "It's just too much to take in! My mother, a person I thought was sweet and kind and just a bit… flighty, ends up being a member of some international covert operation! I was so naive!" 

"No, Blair, you weren't. I was just good at my job." 

Blair rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you were." 

"Jim will keep an eye on you for me from now on." 

"You really didn't hate Jim? You didn't send my thesis to Graham out of animosity toward him?" 

"No, Blair, I didn't. When they found out about Jim from Brackett's reports, and when they realized that you'd written those undergrad papers on Sentinels, they put two and two together. By then, you were working with Jim all the time! When they determined that Jim was what they wanted, they made arrangements to take him. I had to make sure that they didn't just take you both! Then I would have never found you. So I led them to believe that it was to their advantage to allow Jim to hone his skills before he was recruited for service. I was instructed to keep an eye on him. That day, when you were finishing your dissertation and I showed up, it wasn't an accident." Naomi put a hand on Blair's arm. "You have to understand. I had two choices. They took Jim, or they took you and Jim. I chose the only choice available to me. I gave them Jim." 

Jim put a hand on Blair's shoulder. "I'm not happy about it either, Chief, but Naomi did what a good soldier would do. I don't hold that against her. And now, she'll pay for what she did to me -to us." 

Blair sighed. "You're being awfully forgiving, Jim. More than I think I can be." He let out a small groan. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry about the whole thing! I'm sorry about everything! Geez, Jim, if you hadn't let me stay with you," Blair said, looking into his partner's loving face, "none of this would have happened!" 

Jim held Blair's upper arms. "Should have or would have or could have. It's done. Besides..." He lowered his voice. "You know I'm in love with you." With a smile, he added, "It's getting late. Time to go." 

"Okay." Blair looked over his shoulder at Naomi. "Mom..." 

Naomi smiled. "I love you, sweetie." 

Blair looked into Naomi's eyes for a long moment before he replied, "Me, too." He then hugged her tightly. She returned the hug with a small sob. When they parted, Naomi bravely gave Blair a shaky smile. 

"Be safe," she whispered. 

"You, too." 

"Come on, Chief. We have a long way to go." 

"Right." Following Jim into the brush, he turned once but when he looked around, Tavares and Naomi were gone. 

\-----------------------------------------

The hut sat in a grove of banana trees overlooking the Amazon River tributary that flowed lazily by. Blair stretched his body, cracking his bones and scratching his belly. With a contented sigh, he raised his hands over his head and leaned left, then right, watching the great blue herons fishing for tasty tidbits along the water's edge. A black caiman floated by, causing the herons to watch cautiously until the predator moved far enough away for the birds to safely resume their feeding. 

Blair relieved himself before making his way back into the hut. Pushing aside the mosquito netting, he crossed over to the pallet and stood looking down into the sleeping face of his mate. 

Jim lay on his side, facing the door. His face was peaceful in rest. Blair drank in the planes and angles of Jim's face before moving his inspection down the strong neck, broad shoulders and sculpted chest. With a hungry grin, his eyes moved to Jim's lower body. He had a thin sheet of cloth covering hips and legs, and the parts that he was interested in were hidden by the colorful material. 

Moving around the pallet, Blair slowly crawled up it until he was next to his lover. He lay down on his back and started to trace his own body with a finger. Rubbing a nipple to hardness, he smiled. His breath started to come in short, panting gasps as his hands moved downward until he reached his penis. With a light touch, he stroked himself. 

Jim stirred, making Blair grin in wicked amusement. Jim was a human pheromone detector, he knew. He also knew that he was damned horny and ready for his partner's touch. When Jim rolled to his back and rubbed his eyes, Blair chuckled and gave a couple of more strokes to his semi-hard shaft. 

"Jim, man. I'm getting really, really uncomfortable here," Blair teasingly said, touching himself yet again and made small moaning sounds. "It's been sooo long," he said seductively. Bending his legs so that his feet were flat on the floor and pushing his hips up slightly, he continued to pleasure himself. "Guess I'm going to have to take care of this myself." 

Jim rolled to his side, his face taking on a bored expression. He rested his head on his hand and said firmly, "You are not goading me into having sex with you." 

Blair pouted, sticking out his lower lip and widening his eyes. He knew the effect that his mouth had on his lover, and he used that knowledge to his full advantage. Turning innocent eyes to his mate, he pouted again before he groused, "But Jim! It's been at least a week! I'm fine! Really!" Taking Jim's hand, he said, "Feel." He pressed the large palm against his forehead. "See? No fever. I'm fine! I'm just horny!" 

Jim laughed and with one fluid motion, he rolled himself onto Blair's body and planted a hand on either side of his head. Looking down, he said, "You are such a slut, Chief. Besides, you're the one who was delirious for three days with fever! I'm not taking any chances with your health. No doctors, remember? It would take me two weeks to carry you to the nearest mission!" 

"Jim, man, that was last week. This week, I'm fine! So I'm warning you..." Blair pushed his hips up into Jim's stomach before lowering himself back onto the pallet. He reached for himself once again. "I'm not waiting any longer..." He stroked, closing his eyes and licking his lips. The growl of frustration he heard made him grin. "Oh... Feels so good... Oh, man..." 

Blair let out a startled squeak when Jim raised himself to his hands and knees. He quickly wrapped his hand over Blair's, making his eyes fly open. He laughed, making Jim's eyes narrow. With a wicked grin, he pushed Blair's hand away. Rubbing his palm into the drops of pre-cum gathering at the tip, he tightened his grip, fisting the rock hard cock expertly, making Blair shudder. 

"Jim, man... Stop... You're... going to make... me... come!" Blair cried, thrusting his hips upward into the tight fist. 

"You wanted this," Jim said huskily before covering Blair's mouth with his. He kissed him hard and deep, tongue exploring every corner.

Blair moaned deeply, which made Jim's hand move faster. When Blair pumped his hips in wild abandon, Jim pulled away from his ravaged mouth and laughed. Suddenly, the hand was gone. Blair cried out with frustration, "Jim, please! Damn it..." 

"Look at me. Open your eyes and look at me." 

Blair's eyes flew open. Jim was leaning over him with such need reflected in his eyes that he gasped. "Jim... What do you want?" he asked huskily, fingers spreading more of the pre-cum that was dripping freely over the reddened head. "Tell me... What do you want?"

"Want you. Want to own you. Want to mark you. Want to be buried in you." Jim looked deeply into Blair's eyes. "Want you screaming my name when you come." 

Blair smiled and put his hands on Jim's shoulders, guiding him to move aside. He then rose to his knees, reached out and palmed Jim's thick flesh in his hand, rubbing a thumb over the slit. "Fuck me." 

"Need to see your face... your eyes... that mouth.... That fucking, seductive, sinful mouth." 

Blair nodded, rooting around beside the pallet for a small pot of gel that he had made from a variety of roots and leaves. He grinned, remembering what he had learned about the concoction from one of the local tribal medicine men: that it was a great lubricant and that it kept a man hard and eager for a long while. After he had made sure that Jim would have no adverse reactions to the ingredients, they made a trial run of its lubricating properties. Both men were delighted to discover that it not only provided excellent lubrication, but something in the mixture did indeed act as an aphrodisiac for a normal man. But even better, it also seemed to help needy Sentinels pleasure their lovers even longer. When Jim saw Blair dipping his fingers into the gel, he shuddered in anticipation. 

Blair smiled. "Come here." 

Jim moved quickly, kneeling in front of his lover. His arm snaked around Blair's shoulders and he leaned down, kissing the inviting lips. Blair opened his mouth and invited Jim in, an invitation to which he promptly responded. While Jim's tongue happily invaded his mouth, his hands, well lubed, caressed Jim's hard member. 

Pulling back, Jim's nostrils flared. His body trembled and his chest heaved. "Need you. Always. Blair... Please." 

Blair smiled, once again licking his lips and making small, wet sounds with his mouth. All the while, his hands kept up their actions, massaging the slick, hard flesh. "Sit back on your thighs." 

Jim nodded eagerly. Blair rose and scooted forward. Taking Jim's hand, he rubbed some of the lube onto his fingers. "In me. Now." 

Spreading his legs on either side of Jim's, when the slick fingers entered his body, he threw back his head and his mouth fell open. "Oh, yes. Oh, yes! Harder." Riding down onto the fingers, he grunted and tried to push them deeper. "Out... now." 

Jim obeyed immediately, grousing, "God, but you're bossy." He reached down and held his organ at the ready. When Blair scooted up a fraction, Jim used the tip of a finger to align Blair's body with the head of his penis and with a small thrust, he signaled his lover that all was ready. Blair nodded and with a careful push, accepted Jim into his body in a slow, steady motion until they were fully joined. 

"Oh, God," Blair whispered. "Feels so good." With their eyes locked together, and with Jim's hands on his hips to aid him, he rose along the hard length before lowering himself fully. With a deep shudder, he rose again before sinking back onto the thick flesh. "It's about damned time!" Again, and again, relishing in the delicious feel of being full and being loved. 

"Chief... Do you know... how much I love you?" 

Blair smiled, hand on the side of Jim's face. "As much as I love... Jim!" His mouth fell open as Jim's hand, coated with lube, found his still-needy erection. "God, Jim. Give a guy a... chance!" Blair latched onto Jim's mouth and kissed him, a long, wet and deep kiss. His entire body was alive with feeling. His penis was almost bursting, it was so hard. His channel was full and every nerve was tingling. His balls ached, ready to explode, he felt. 

Jim dragged his mouth away from Blair's. "Going to fill you. Mark you with my come. You're mine. Always mine." 

"Yes!" Blair cried, mindlessly thrusting up into Jim's hand; then pushing down onto his shaft. Jim's hand moved quickly, with just the right amount of pressure, until Blair was crying, "Yesyesyesyes Jimmm! Shit, Jim!" Spurts of hot cream splashed over Jim's hand and both of their bellies. "Fuck me harder, Jim!" 

Jim growled and rolled Blair to his back, pressing his legs to his chest. Pushing in deeply, he wiggled his hips and pulled out only to push back again and again. "More. More, Jim!" Blair ordered. "God, Jim," he said breathlessly, reaching up, and with his hands latched behind Jim's head, he yanked him down for yet another deep, passionate kiss. Biting Jim's lower lip, Blair whispered, "Fuck me harder. God, I love you." 

"Love you... Love you, Chief... Always love... you. Only you," Jim muttered, hips thrusting into his lover's body. "Going to... Blair..." 

"Do it. Do it!" Blair's fingers found Jim's nipples. He scraped his fingernails over his Sentinel's sensitive skin, making him let out a small cry and with a final thrust, he emptied himself into Blair's willing body. 

Jim shuddered and with his eyes locked onto his mate's, he cried out, "Oh, God! Blair!" 

Blair threw back his head, exposing his neck; inviting his Sentinel to mark him. With a deep moan, Jim leaned down and sucked a passion mark on the creamy skin while he marked Blair's body internally with his come. Blair's hands scrabbled across his lover's muscled back. Jim gave one final thrust of his softening penis before he collapsed onto Blair, panting harshly. Laughing, Blair hugged Jim's head to his chest and kissed the top of his head. "That was fantastic!" 

Jim chuckled. "Glad to oblige." Still chuckling, he slipped to the side and flopped down beside his lover. "You wore me out." 

Laughing, Blair slapped Jim's backside. "Let's do it again!" 

Jim groaned theatrically. "You are a slut." 

Blair laughed again. "Yeah, but I'm your slut." 

"Good." 

"Yeah, good." 

The lovers lay quietly for a long while, drifting off to sleep, then waking to talk, kiss, laugh, and then sleep again. 

Finally, Blair stirred. "I need to wash." 

"No." 

"What?" 

"No." 

"No?"

"Yeah." 

"Ah, okay." 

"I like it." 

"What?" 

"You. Sticky and sweaty. I like when you have come stuck in your hair. I like when your body is messy from me making love to you; when my come is on you and in you. I like it. I like marking you. You look... fucked. Loved and fucked." Jim chuckled. "I like it. Makes me want to fuck you again." 

Blair smiled. Rolling to his side, he propped his head up on his hand. Running his other hand through his belly, where the semen was starting to dry and flake, he said huskily, "You like this?" Touching his own nipple, he tweaked it until it peaked. "You like me smelling of you?" 

"God, yes," Jim replied, likewise rolling to his side. He leaned over and kissed Blair's temple before moving down his cheek and onto his lips. "Like you smelling of me. I like the smell of you and me mixed together even more." Kissing Jim back, Blair grinned against his lover's mouth. 

"Cool." 

"Like..." Jim bestowed another kiss onto the reddened lips. "... everything about..." Another kiss. "...you, especially..." More kisses to Blair's nose, cheek and then his ear. "...like fucking you." 

Blair laughed, flopping to his back and pulling on Jim until he settled most of his body between Blair's outstretched legs with his head on Blair's chest. "Do you have regrets?" 

Jim kissed the skin nearest his mouth. "Sometimes. You?" 

"Sometimes." Blair rubbed his fingers through Jim's messy hair. "Do you want to -" 

"No." 

Blair laughed. "Okay. If you're sure." 

"I'm sure." Rising up enough to reach Blair's mouth, he bestowed another sweet kiss there before giving a quick lick to the bristly chin. Jim pushed himself up on his hands. "Oh, I have something for you." 

"You do?"

Nodding, Jim rose and rummaged in one of the small baskets sitting in the corner. Holding out a thong of leather with a string of creamy colored beads strung along the cord, Jim said, "Happy Birthday." 

Smiling, Blair asked, "Is it my birthday?" 

Jim shrugged. "Who knows? Merry Christmas. Happy Hanukkah. Happy Fourth of July. Great 'I Love You Blair' Day. Pick one." 

Blair grinned. "I pick 'I love you forever' day. Put it on me?" 

Jim knelt behind Blair and tied the ends together. The small beads clinked together as he spun around to throw his arms around Jim's neck. 

"I love you. Thank you." 

Jim smiled. Petting Blair's hair, he said happily, "I love you, too. Now how about a wash?" 

"Hey, I thought you liked me all sticky and smelly." 

Jim grinned. "To a point, Chief. To a point." 

"So I've passed that point?" 

"I'm afraid so." 

"Will you wash my hair?" 

"I'd love to," Jim said, admiring the shoulder-length locks that he had painstakingly braided into plaits, each with a tiny bead on the end. "I'll redo your hair. It got kind of messed up. Wonder why?" he added with a devilish grin. 

Blair answered with a grin of his own, knowing that Jim loved washing his hair, then spreading it out across his thigh and combing it until it dried. He often sat for a couple of hours, dozing in the sun, while Jim carefully braided it. It made him feel pampered and loved. Jim's skillful hands were good for many things, Blair thought with a smile. He rose and touched the string of beads that Jim had made just for him. With his fingertips, he could feel the tiny marks that had been carefully etched into the bone. He would look more closely at the delicate carvings later, but right now, he knew Jim was enjoying admiring the necklace lying against his skin. He liked the feel of the beads resting in the hollow of his neck, just a little bit away from the passion mark that Jim had made. He smiled again, thinking about how much Jim must care for him. 

"Thank you," Blair said sincerely, looking down to see Jim watching him with a loving look on his face. 

"Sure, Chief." 

Grabbing two clean wraps and two lengths of cloth for towels, the grass mat that Jim had woven so they had something to sit on to keep the sand sticking to their backsides, and some of their homemade soap, Blair waited for his lover to join him. Walking down the path to the river, Blair was quiet. 

"What?" Jim asked. 

Blair shrugged. "It's been over a year, hasn't it?" 

"Yeah, give or take." Jim walked for a few more steps before he asked, "You miss her?" 

"A bit." Blair smiled. "I miss a cold beer more." 

"Chief!" Jim said, feigning shock. 

"Just kidding." After a few more moments of quiet, Blair added, "I've thought about it a lot." 

"And...?" 

"There's no where else I'd rather be." 

"Me, neither. Here, with you. Safe and sound." They walked a bit farther when Jim offered, "You have a great ass, Blair." 

"Now who's the slut?" 

Jim grinned. "Ah, you?" 

"Oh!" Blair cried, smacking Jim's arm. "Jim?" 

"Right here, Chief." 

"This train is on the right track now." 

"Okay... I think." 

Blair smiled. "When we were… derailed, it was horrible. Now that we're both on the same track, well, it's all good." 

"Your metaphors suck, Chief." 

"Is that an invitation?" 

"You want it to be one?" 

"Yeah, man. I do... but only after you wash!" 

Laughing, the men raced the last few yards to the river's edge and together, they splashed out into the warm water. 

"Choo chooo," Jim called. 

Blair looked lovingly at his Sentinel. "This train is definitely on the right track. Now come here and let me play with your caboose." 

Jim laughed, and as always, he willingly obeyed his Guide. 

The End


End file.
